The Snow Queen and the Lion
by C. Montgomery Burns
Summary: You can't escape your past and the things you've done. Fredrik and Elsa, both famous for their deeds, know that better than anyone. In the face of war, hardship and endless schemes, will they come together?
1. Chapter 1

"It's a thing to see when a boy comes home." – John Steinbeck

* * *

Lieutenant Colonel Fredrik Amundsen stood contently on the deck of the _Sea Wolf_ as it entered the harbor of Arendelle. He savored every feeling and every sight – the beautiful snowcapped mountains rising behind his beloved home, the cool breeze of the late summer against his face, the clear blue harbor stretching ahead like a finely-crafted piece of stained glass. He'd missed the cool weather and the mild summers more than he could say. Even the harsh winters were beautiful in their own way.

 _It's good to be home_ , he thought.

He felt the necklace he wore beneath his green uniform, the color of his native country, and reflected. It'd been nearly three years since he'd been home, most of which he spent leading expeditions into Africa. The lion claws that hung from his necklace and poked his chest were a constant reminder of his time there, time both glorious and terrible. Even at his highest moments, Fredrik had never stopped thinking of Arendelle and what it would be like to return to its warm embrace. It hadn't been how he'd expected to finally go home, being recalled by a brand-new, reclusive Queen along with whatever other forces were abroad, but he readily accepted it. He'd heard a rumor that there'd been some sort of coup attempt on the young monarch earlier that summer, but the details hadn't found their way to Africa. He'd heard all kinds of other ridiculous rumors, but paid them no mind. As long as Arendelle waited for him, he was happy.

A young sailor came by and informed him they'd be making port within the hour, elevating Fredrik's mood even further. He'd have to report to his commanding officers first, but after that he'd have some time to himself. He yearned to walk the streets of the town again, to poke his head in the shops and taverns and have real conversations with his fellow countrymen about something other than military matters.

The _Sea Wolf_ docked and Fredrik was the first to disembark, having been assured his horse, Odysseus, would be unloaded for him. He bounded onto the dock with undeniable vigor, his feet finally back on his native soil.

"Fredrik!" called a friendly voice.

Fredrik quickly spotted its source, Jørgen Larsen, a fellow soldier and his closest friend. Jørgen wasted no time in running over to Fredrik and pulling him into hug that squeezed the breath out of the young lieutenant colonel.

"It's good to see you, old friend," said Jørgen as he released his comrade.

"You too. How'd you know when I was docking?" asked Fredrik.

"Fredrik, I'm a captain now. Don't you think I could find out when my best friend's ship would arrive?"

Fredrik couldn't help but smile at this. Jørgen had been his bunkmate at Arendelle's military academy and the pair had forged a bond of friendship that remained unbroken despite years apart.

"Well, thank you for the welcome," said Fredrik.

"My pleasure. It's not every day you get to greet 'The Lion' himself," said Jørgen jokingly.

"How'd you know about that?" asked Fredrik, surprised his nickname from Africa had followed him back to Arendelle.

"Everybody in the army has heard of you, Fredrik! You're a celebrity among the men and, if I've heard correctly, many of the officers are quite interested in you."

"Well… stories always get exaggerated, you know?"

"Your humility just leaves me limp with envy," laughed Jørgen, "Come on, let's go celebrate in a manner befitting a hero such as yourself."

Fredrik frowned at the word _hero_ as Jørgen beckoned him towards a local tavern.

"Actually, I'm afraid I have to go report to command," said Fredrik, stepping back from his friend.

"I completely forgot," said Jørgen as he slapped his forehead, "Well, I do hope you can find room in your busy schedule to come carousing with a fellow officer tonight."

"Count on it, Captain. We'll see if Arendelle is still standing tomorrow morning."

Fredrik bid goodbye to Jørgen and headed off towards Arendelle's barracks. He could've hired a carriage, but preferred to walk the streets. He couldn't believe the change his home had undergone. The once subdued streets were now bustling with people who were all talking and laughing and trading goods Fredrik had never seen in Arendelle before.

 _Come to think of it, I've never known Arendelle to trade much other than ice_ , thought Fredrik as he walked.

Fredrik noticed a cart of mangos and was instantly drawn to them. They were a personal favorite of his, a succulent fruit he'd never tried until his time in Africa and had certainly never seen before in his native land.

"Would ya like one, soldier?" asked the vendor with a broad smile.

"I'd love one," answered Fredrik as he reached into his pocket to pay.

Before Fredrik could get his money, the vendor tossed a mango to him, "Here. It's on the house."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, take it. Business has been good to me lately."

"I've never seen these before in Arendelle," said Fredrik as he bit into the fruit, savoring its juicy flavors.

"We've only just gotten them in. When the Queen finally opened up trade with some of the other nations, we got access to all kinds of new goodies," said the vendor.

"I'm glad Arendelle's not such a hermit-kingdom anymore," said Fredrik, taking another bite out of the mango.

"I couldn't agree more, soldier. With the castle finally open, perhaps we'll get –

"Wait, the castle is open?"

"Sure. It's been open the past few months."

"That castle's been locked up like a vault for as long as I can remember."

"Well, it's open now. Where've you been lately anyway?"

"I was serving abroad," answered Fredrik as he finished his mango, "Thank you for the fruit, sir. I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm afraid I've got to go report for duty."

"No problem, soldier. Welcome back to Arendelle," said the vendor warmly as Fredrik walked away.

Fredrik walked briskly to the barracks, continuously amazed by how his home had changed. He almost didn't recognize it. It was like a black and white drawing that had suddenly been filled in with living color. It was different, but a good different.

Arriving at the barracks and the command building, Fredrik gave his name and rank to the soldiers on guard and was beckoned inside. He sat in a plush chair and waited, his commanding officer, General Broulard, evidently busy. The room was empty, save for the General's secretary, who worked incessantly, making copies of the General's correspondence. Fredrik could see his own reflection in his highly polished boots. He looked fine, yet he felt a little uneasy. Jørgen had said everyone in the army had heard of his expeditions and he wondered what details might have gotten confused.

"Get in her, boy! We don't have all day!" called out a jovial voice from the General's office.

"General Broulard will see you now," said the secretary obviously before immediately returning to copying letters.

Fredrik entered the office and sat down. If anything in Arendelle hadn't changed, it was General Broulard. The squat, wrinkled man who sat behind the ornate desk was the same man who'd sent Fredrik off to Africa three years ago.

"Welcome back to Arendelle, my boy! How was your trip?" asked the General.

"Fine sir. It's good to be home," Fredrik answered honestly.

"Ah certainly. I trust your time in Africa wasn't too terrible?"

"It was alright sir. My men were as disciplined as any I'd seen and we did our duty."

"And did it well if I've heard correctly. Word is you boys held your own in numerous engagements. Too bad combat couldn't do anything to fix that ugly mug of yours, though," teased the old General.

Fredrik chuckled. General Broulard, despite his rank and age, was an unpretentious man that enjoyed messing with his subordinates.

"I'm afraid miracles were in short-supply down there, sir," said Fredrik with a smile.

The General laughed at this and leaned forward on his desk.

"Victories certainly weren't. I've been reviewing your records and I must say I'm impressed, Fredrik. Or do you prefer The Lion?"

"Uh, Fredrik, sir. Some of those reports were probably exaggerated."

"Humble, I respect that. It's something rarely found in a man of your qualifications: top cadet at Arendelle's military academy, youngest soldier ever promoted to lieutenant colonel, experience in Arendelle's cavalry, leader of numerous successful expeditions into uncharted territory. Shall I go on?"

"No thank you, sir."

Fredrik was increasingly uncomfortable. The General's company was pleasant, but he'd rather not review his actions in Africa, parts of which he was glad to leave behind. The General simply grinned nonchalantly, as if they were discussing the weather.

"You know, I was at another one of those dull meetings today, surrounded by nobles turned generals who'd never so much as set foot in a military academy, much less a battlefield, and I got to thinking. I started wondering why the highest jobs went to most unqualified. Why do you think that is, son?

"I suppose because of their connections, sir."

"Probably so, but I'd rather have able men commanding, so congratulations my boy. You've been promoted!"

"Pardon me, sir?"

"You heard me. By the authority vested in me by her majesty the Queen, you are now the youngest man ever promoted to colonel in the history of Arendelle's military. Congratulations," said General Broulard, shaking Fredrik's hand.

"Thank you, sir. I promise I won't disappoint you," said Fredrik, surprised with the meeting's result but certainly not unhappy.

"I don't doubt. Now, go out and enjoy yourself tonight, but be here at 0600 tomorrow morning. The Queen's holding a meeting with an assortment of officers and nobles and I'd like you to come as my guest."

Fredrik promised he'd be on time before taking his leave. He hurried to drop his stuff off in the barracks, hoping to locate Jørgen soon after and hit all the taverns Arendelle had to offer.

* * *

Queen Elsa walked in the shade of the castle gardens, carefully obscured from the late afternoon sun. She liked the fresh air, but the sun always had a way of making her sick, it's heat overbearing on her generally cold person. Elsa's walks provided one of her only forms of relaxation, something that was becoming harder to come by since her ascension to the throne months earlier. Since the Great Thaw, summer had progressed beautifully and nobody had been happier than Anna. Just thinking about her little sister drew a genuine smile from Elsa. Anna was summer epitomized, warm, radiant, and friendly. She belonged outside the castle, among the people.

Elsa stopped and admired the fine red roses perfectly maintained beside the small path. She took a deep breath and crafted a fine ice rose among the others. She was reminded of what the trolls had told her long ago. Her gift could indeed be beautiful. She gotten better at controlling it. Ever since Anna had shown how love could thaw the ice fear created, Elsa had maintained control. Any time she felt it slipping, she just thought of her sister and the ice would recede. She still worried for Anna sometimes, like any protective big sister would. Unfortunately, Anna's kind and trusting nature could be taken advantage of by certain people. People like Hans.

Elsa shuddered at the memory of the scheming prince who'd almost killed her and Anna. Ice slowly began to creep up Elsa's arms as she remembered his cruelties. Convincing Anna he loved her. Leaving Anna to die. Telling Elsa that she'd killed her beloved sister. All just to assume the throne of a kingdom. The Southern Isles had bent over backwards to appease Arendelle afterwards, not wanting to lose a trading partner. King Albert, Hans' eldest brother, had assured the young queen that his brother's crimes would not go unpunished despite being royalty. Last Elsa had heard, Hans was doing hard labor somewhere in the farmlands of the Southern Isles and still had many years remaining on his sentence. She was glad for it. Elsa wasn't hateful, but believed in justice and as long as Hans remained in custody, Anna and Arendelle were safe.

 _Anna is safe and so is Arendelle,_ thought Elsa, the ice she'd generated quickly thawing.

Elsa decided to return to her office, her walk complete and her work not. Endless piles of paper cluttered her desk and she began to sift through them. In some ways the work was a blessing. It was the only time Elsa's emotions were so subdued that there was no threat of anything being frozen. As she read another report on the production of grains in the northwest section of her country, Elsa wondered how her father had ever handled something so boring. It was ironic really. Elsa finally had the freedom to leave the castle yet her duties kept her confined to her office most of the time.

Then Elsa heard the distinctive, rhythmic knock on her office door that she'd heard hundreds of times on her bedroom door as a child. It only belonged to one person. Elsa hurried to open the door, remembering the countless times she hadn't opened it.

 _You never have to shut her out again_ , Elsa thought as she opened the door to reveal her sister grinning ear to ear.

"Hey, are you busy right now?" asked Anna hopefully.

"Um, sorta. Why?" asked Elsa, glancing back at the pile of papers on her desk.

"Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to go on a picnic."

Elsa hesitated, remembering all that she still had to do, but one look at Anna's excited face made her decision for her.

"Sure. Sounds like fun," answered Elsa.

The words were barely out of her mouth before Anna took Elsa's hand and pulled her along with childlike eagerness. Elsa laughed despite herself. The months she'd gotten to spend with her sister had reminded her of the fun they'd had as kids, before she had to hide her powers.

A few minutes later, both the queen and princess of Arendelle were sitting under a large tree near the stables of the palace. The sun was slowly descending behind Arendelle's mountains and a cool breeze blew the leaves above their heads.

"It's so beautiful today," said Anna, observing the way the setting sun bathed the tops of the mountains in golden light.

"I wouldn't mind it being a little colder," chuckled Elsa.

"After our mini-winter, I'm happy with a little more summer," said Anna with a smile, "So what've you been up to today? I haven't seen you since breakfast."

"I had to meet with some dignitaries and review a bunch of our production records. That stuff seems unending," groaned Elsa, "On top of that, Weselton is still sending envoys here to try and reopen trade."

"Ah the joys of being queen. I would've thought Weaseltown would've taken a hint by now."

"Well, turns out the Duke is as stubborn as he is a bad dancer."

"At least you weren't the one who actually had to dance with him," said Anna with a laugh, "Although the Duke might've been a better dancer than Kristoff."

Elsa laughed at the thought of the friendly mountain man trying to learn something as formal as ballroom dancing.

"Oh come on, Anna. He can't be that bad."

"It's like he's got two left feet! I was trying to teach him earlier, but progress has been kinda slow."

"Go easy on him. I don't think ice-harvesting and hanging out with reindeer really prepares you for things like that."

"I know, I know. I love him either way, dance or no-dance. Speaking of which, how come you haven't given it a try?"

"Anna, I'm probably even worse than Kristoff and the Duke. Even if I did give it a try, I'd probably be so nervous I'd freeze the whole room."

"Better than freezing the whole kingdom," quipped Anna, whose humor was rewarded with a snowball to the face, courtesy of her sister.

"Hey" laughed Anna, brushing snow off her, "can you at least wait until winter for that so I can return fire?"

"You asked for it," said Elsa wryly.

Finished removing snow, Anna reached into the small basket she'd brought and pulled out a crisp apple to eat.

"It's so nice to have this," she said as she bit into the fruit.

"Yeah, it's good to have Arendelle trading again," observed Elsa.

"No, not the apple. I meant **this** ," said Anna, gesturing to her sister, "I really missed getting to spend time with you like this."

Elsa smiled.

"I did too."

* * *

 **Author Note: This is my first Frozen fanfiction. I hope you guys enjoy it because I certainly do. Be on the lookout for references to a variety of books and films I enjoy. It may be something as simple as a line of dialogue, a description, a name or I may just say it directly. All reviews, follows and favorites are greatly appreciated. See y'all in chapter 2.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

_"Now if you listen closely, I'll tell you what I know. Storm clouds are gathering. The wind is gonna blow. The race of man is suffering and I can hear the moan, 'Cause nobody, but nobody, can make it out here alone." – Maya Angelou_

* * *

 _Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish ladies_

 _Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain_

Jørgen was attempting to serenade the patrons of the tavern as Fredrik beckoned him out the door. Despite initial protests, his friend obeyed and stumbled out the door with him, denying the patrons the rest of the song.

"Ah Fredrik, you've become such a stiff," slurred Jørgen as he hobbled alongside his comrade, "Is that what being a colonel does to ya? If it is, I hope I'm never promoted again."

"Do you really get that much pleasure out of being a captain?" asked Fredrik, laughing at his friend's intoxicated state.

"I'm as happy as a fat man at a feast, sir. In fact, you can tell Broulard and all those other aristocrats when you see 'em tomorrow that I, Captain Jørgen Larsen, am completely content and will not be bucking for rank any time soon."

"I doubt you'll even remember saying that tomorrow, but I'll keep it in mind," chuckled Fredrik.

"I still can't believe you'll be rubbing shoulders with nobility tomorrow. You aren't turning into a socialite on me are you?"

"It's nothing like that, Jørgen. The General just asked me come along as his guest, probably a one-time thing."

"If ya ask me, I'd say he's g-grooming you."

"Come again?"

"Yeah. Why else would he be putting in this much effort? You're barely twenty-three and you've already made colonel. He's also got you attending council meetings with him. At this rate, you'll be a general before you're thirty."

"That jealousy I hear?"

"God no. I'd hate to be around those pansies all day. There's probably cobwebs all over their scabbards."

Fredrik chuckled and directed Jørgen towards another tavern.

"Come on, let's leave the theories outside and just have a good time," said Fredrik.

Soon both men were lounging at an oak table in the friendly confines of the tavern, a mug of beer in front of each of them. Jørgen took a large gulp before setting the mug back down and letting out a gratuitous belch.

"It's a little warm for my tastes. Where's the Queen when ya need her," laughed Jørgen as his eyes roved the tavern in search of ice.

"What exactly are you talking about?" asked Fredrik, taking a sip from his beer.

"Oh that's right! I forgot you missed all the excitement. You must've heard the stories, though."

"I heard all kinds of crazy stories, Jørgen. That doesn't mean I believed a word of them."

"You should've seen it yourself. The whole kingdom frozen in the middle of summer, courtesy of our beloved queen."

Fredrik laughed.

"I think you've had enough of this," said Fredrik as he slid the beer mug away from his friend.

"Oh ye of little faith. I'm telling you, the Queen's got some serious power. She's either god or the devil. I'm not quite sure which one," slurred Jørgen, before calling out to a waitress, "Garcon, I need some ice."

"Do you really expect me to believe that the Queen can control the weather?" asked Fredrik incredulously.

"I just know that she can freeze just about anything. She can conjure up ice out of thin air. Who knows, maybe you'll see it tomorrow."

The waitress appeared with a small cup of ice for Jørgen. "Garcon means boy," she added flatly before walking away.

Jørgen took his beer back and plunked a few ice cubes into it. He took a sip and let out an unmistakable sound of satisfaction.

"That's much better," said Jørgen, leaning back in his chair.

"So, you're telling me the Queen of Arendelle has ice powers."

"Ask anybody and they'll tell you the exact same thing," said Jørgen.

Fredrik searched his friend's face for some indication of a joke, expecting Jørgen to burst out laughing at any moment, but nothing came.

* * *

Elsa was burning as much of the midnight oil as she could stand. Fire always bugged her, making her feel like she'd melt, but she kept just enough in her office lanterns to see as she worked, her azure eyes scanning paper after paper. She'd put off finishing the stack of papers on her desk to spend time with Anna and now she was paying the price, staying up late into the night to keep up with her queenly duties. Still, it was hard to regret the decision. Elsa cherished every opportunity she had to reconnect with her sister and would gladly lose a little sleep to do so. Sometimes she envied Anna, who'd never have to worry about leading the entire country and could relax more often.

Elsa glanced down at the small portraits she kept at her desk, particularly the one of her parents, King Agnarr and Queen Iduna. She knew that although it was a burden to carry on their legacy, it was also an honor. She had been given the honor to lead her people and had an obligation to her parents and the countless other monarchs before her to do it to the best of her abilities, even if it went sacrificing a little sleep. Elsa huffed and undid her hairpins, releasing her blonde braid and forgetting formality.

 _It's not like anyone else is up,_ she thought.

Elsa kept reviewing documents, one of which reminded her of the meeting she had tomorrow morning with many of Arendelle's highest ranking military officers. She wasn't exactly eager. Arendelle was peaceful with almost every nation, but there was still some tension brewing with Weselton. Elsa hoped that the Duke would eventually accept their trade refusal and not escalate things. She was confident the generals would want her opinion on a variety of contingency plans in case relations with Weselton, or lack thereof, dissolved into war. That terrible possibility was never far from Elsa's thoughts. The idea of her people being attacked under her watch bothered her more than any other.

* * *

Fredrik woke with a slight headache, a remnant of the previous night's festivities. No sunlight came in through his window, indicating it was still early in the morning. He groaned before stumbling out of his bed and walking over to the mirror that hung on the wall of his private quarters. He never particularly enjoyed looking at himself, but knew he had to get ready.

 _God, it's a good thing I don't have a roommate,_ thought Fredrik as he surveyed his appearance.

His brown hair stuck out in various directions. His face was unshaven and the skin beneath his brown eyes was dark, betraying his late-night antics. If he looked bad, Fredrik wondered how Jørgen, who he'd literally had to carry back from the taverns, looked. The thought of his friend coping with the effects of a full-fledged hangover brought a smile to his face as he attempted to organize his appearance into something suitable for a meeting with many of his commanding officers and the queen. He still wasn't sure what to believe concerning his country's monarch. The few people he'd asked last night had confirmed Jørgen's stories, but they were all also tavern patrons and Fredrik knew drunks weren't the most reliable sources of information.

Fredrik combed his hair, shaved and splashed cold water on his face before putting on his ceremonial uniform. It was green, but much more elaborate than the uniform he'd worn during his time in the field. The fine fabric felt alien against his skin. He was an officer, but unaccustomed to the decorative uniforms and luxurious behaviors of the high-command, something he hadn't imagined he'd ever be glimpsing, let alone participating in. Part of him almost didn't want to go, knowing he was of completely different stock than everyone else who'd be at the meeting. He doubted the aristocrats would be happy with the presence of a commoner like himself, but he ultimately pushed his hesitations aside and finished dressing, knowing Broulard expected him to attend. Before leaving to go meet with the General, he checked himself one last time in the mirror.

 _Well, at least they won't wonder if I'm homeless,_ he thought as he hurried out the door.

* * *

"Your majesty, the generals are waiting for you," announced Kai, the castle's long-serving butler.

"Thank you, Kai. I'll be there in a moment," said Elsa as she organized the rest of her papers.

She hadn't slept much the night before, staying up late to finish her work and rising early to prepare for her morning meeting. She made sure to conceal her fatigue, knowing many of the elder officials were already skeptical of her as a young, inexperienced monarch. The last thing she needed was to project any weakness to them.

Queen Elsa walked into the council room projecting nothing but regality, from her elegant gate to her impassive face to the crown perched on top of her head. Her blue eyes surveyed the council room and the various officers crowded around the council table, all clearly eager to discuss various situations.

"Your majesty, welcome," said General Broulard from across the table, bowing along with his subordinates.

It was then that Elsa noticed a new face among the group. She knew General Broulard, who'd been in service since her father was king, and had at least had a passing familiarity with the other old officers, but not this stranger. He looked significantly younger than the others, around her age actually, and stood tall behind General Broulard, clad in an officer's uniform that signified a lower rank than the other men in the room. His dark brown gaze was impenetrable, yet Elsa somehow detected a little discomfort, almost like he felt out of place.

"Thank you, General," said Elsa, snapping out of her analysis, "Please be seated, gentlemen."

"Your majesty, I'm sure you are aware of our current predicament with Weselton," said General Broulard, taking his seat.

"I am. I understand they've continued sending emissaries despite our trade embargo."

"Yes your majesty, and we've turned every one of them away. However, the most recent ones informed us that the Duke is growing impatient."

"Did they threaten Arendelle directly?" asked Elsa, a bit of anger seeping into her voice and the tiniest bit of frost appearing on her fingers.

"Not directly your majesty, but I believe it was implied. If we continue to spurn them in trade, they may retaliate with military force."

"Could we consider reopening relations with Weselton?" suggested one of the lower generals.

"No. The Duke can't be trusted. He showed as much earlier this summer," said Elsa, leaving no room for argument.

"I agree. I've dealt with the Duke for thirty years and he's always been a conniving shrew. There's no reason to give him opportunity to destroy us from within," concurred General Broulard.

"So what do you propose we do, General?" asked Elsa.

"Not much we can do aside from stay the course, your majesty."

"Actually, there is something else we could do," said a sly voice off to the side.

Elsa looked over to see that it was General Mireau who had spoken. No matter how hard she tried to suppress it, a shiver ran down her spine every time she looked at the man. He wasn't quite as old as General Broulard, but still well into his fifties. His thinning white hair was slicked back from his slightly wrinkled face and his beady eyes scanned the faces around the room. His eyes unsettled Elsa the most. Despite his age, the queen could see that they still burned with dark ambition.

"And what, pray tell, is that, General Mireau?" asked General Broulard.

"We simply attack Weselton before they think to attack us," answered Mireau callously.

"You've got to be joking," said Broulard incredulously.

"Not at all, sir. Weselton isn't one for diplomacy and nothing would take the fight out of them like putting a couple hundred to the sword."

Elsa's eyes widened at Mireau's words. She wasn't sure if she was the coldest person in the room anymore.

"Have you lost your mind, Mireau? Brutality aside, do you know how many men we'd lose just attempting something like that?"

General Mireau scoffed at this.

"I wouldn't weigh that too heavily, sir. They are just peasants after all. Surely her majesty understands that sometimes a little cannon fodder has to be expended," said Mireau confidently, casting his gaze toward Elsa.

Inwardly, Elsa was fuming. Not only was Mireau suggesting they massacre innocent people at Weselton, he was now insinuating that she'd be perfectly content to send hundreds of Arendelle's loyal soldiers to their early deaths to do so. At the words _cannon fodder_ , the tiniest flakes of snow had begun to fall in the room.

"Actually I don't share your point of view, General, and if you have any more opinions about the expendability of Arendelle's soldiers, I suggest you keep them to yourself," Elsa said, her voice projecting her authority throughout the room.

Mireau looked taken back at the rebuke, but Elsa failed to notice the smile on the face of the young officer behind Broulard.

"I apologize, your majesty. It was only a suggestion," said Mireau, his voice betraying a hint of frustration.

"General Broulard, I don't want Arendelle being the aggressor, but we need to prepare in case Weselton does attack. I am going order a draft of able-bodied men between eighteen and thirty and would like you to begin their training immediately," said Elsa.

"Of course, your majesty. Hopefully a strengthened army will be enough to keep Weselton at bay," answered Broulard.

The meeting dragged on after that, with endless discussions about possible alliances with the other nations near Arendelle, all of which amounted to nothing. Elsa focused on retaining her composure throughout, knowing her country depended on her rational judgment, especially on matters like these. By the time the meeting concluded, Elsa was exhausted and ready to return to her office, only to be stopped by General Broulard

"Your majesty, do you have a moment?" he asked.

"Of course, General. Is this about the draft?"

"Oh, nothing so serious, your majesty. There's just somebody I think you'd be quite interested to meet," answered Broulard, motioning towards the young officer who stood off to the side observing one of the large paintings in the council room.

"Excuse me, Colonel," said Broulard as he approached the officer, who turned only to be stunned by the sight of his nation's monarch accompanying his commanding officer.

"Your majesty, may I present to you, Colonel Fredrik Amundsen, better known as The Lion among us military men," announced Broulard.

"Your majesty," said Fredrik as he bowed with perfect form.

Now up close, Elsa could get a better look at the young officer. She confirmed she was right about his age. He really didn't look much older than her. Although she was hesitant to admit it, even to herself, she couldn't deny he was ruggedly handsome with his dark brown hair, strong jawline and faint scars. He was tall, yet his body looked like it possessed a large amount of strength beneath his uniform, something uncommon with higher-ranking officers.

"It's a pleasure, Colonel," Elsa returned with a polite smile.

"Fredrik here is the youngest man to ever be promoted to colonel. He's already got himself quite the service record from his time in Africa," said Broulard proudly, slapping Fredrik on the back in an almost fatherly way.

Elsa noticed him smile at the General, but she knew that smile well. It was the smile that attempted to mask discomfort and unease with pleasantry. To the untrained eye, it sufficed, but not to her. It was the smile she'd been forced to wear for most of her life and she could spot it easily on others.

"You served in Africa?" asked Elsa.

"Yes, your majesty. I was appointed to lead several expeditions into western Africa. I returned home yesterday," answered Fredrik with the rigid discipline befitting a soldier.

"Only after defeating every adversary in his path," commented Broulard with a wry smile.

Then Elsa saw it. The young officer winced at Broulard's words. It was almost imperceptible, but it was definitely there, hidden behind a mask of composure. She had a sudden urge to ask this man, Fredrik, more, knowing the difficulties of concealing emotions herself and curious about what it was that bothered him. However, she knew it wasn't an appropriate time for something so personal, especially with somebody she'd just met.

"What do you command now, Colonel?" asked Elsa.

"Nothing at the moment, your majesty. I'm currently awaiting my next assignment," answered Fredrik.

"Well, I'm sure we'll think of something suitable for a man of your qualifications. Perhaps something with all those new recruits we'll be bringing in," suggested Broulard.

"That would be fine, sir," responded Fredrik.

"Well," said Broulard, turning to address Queen Elsa, "Forgive me your majesty, but I'm afraid we have to return to command. It has been a pleasure, but we've got to start organizing that draft of yours."

"Thank you, General. It's been a pleasure talking to both of you," said Elsa, politely smiling at Broulard and Fredrik.

Fredrik smiled back and the Queen noticed something. This time it looked genuine.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Had a first meeting. I'd love to know what you guys think so far. Remember to review. See you in Chapter 3  
**


	3. Chapter 3

"The past is never dead. It's not even past." – William Faulkner

* * *

Fredrik walked through the bustling streets of Arendelle, savoring the bright afternoon sunshine that warmed his chilled skin. It felt incredible, especially afterbeing subjected to the cold temperatures inside the castle. He sat down near one of the many piers, his brown eyes watching the ships gliding through Arendelle's clear blue waters. The blue reminded him of the Queen. The memory of her brought a smile to Fredrik's face. Truthfully, she was the most beautiful woman the young soldier had ever laid eyes on and he was having a hard time getting her off his mind. He kept remembering her flawless porcelain skin, her platinum blonde hair, her soft red lips, her icy blue eyes…

 _It all fits so perfectly_ , mused Fredrik as he continued to watch the ships.

The Queen epitomized winter, from her appearance to her powers, but not in her temperament. She wasn't the cold monarch he'd expected and he found that more alluring than anything else. The way she'd eviscerated Mireau had shown that she did care for her people, aristocrat or commoner, and would do all that she could for them. She wasn't cold at all. In fact, Fredrik suspected she was an even warmer, kinder person in private. He wished he could've talked to her more, gotten to know her, but the opportunity hadn't presented itself.

 _And it never will_ , echoed a dark voice in his head.

That thought brought Fredrik back to reality. Back to who he was.

 _You're a commoner. Worse, you're the runaway, bastard son of a coal-miner and she's royalty. Why would she ever need to see you again?_ questioned the voice.

Fredrik looked down at his reflection in the water and found that he hated it more than ever. No matter what uniform he put on, he couldn't change who he was, his lineage. He'd felt it in that council room, surrounded by people from noble families, whose ancestors had ruled for centuries before them. Fredrik didn't even know who his mother was. His father had always just referred to her as _some whore_ before threatening him not to question it further. Fredrik remembered the various scars covering his body, not all of which came from combat, and let out a sigh. He felt like he was branded by past, covered with constant reminders of the lower creature that he was.

 _Look at yourself, dressed up and pretending you're somebody respectable. Your actions back in Africa confirmed what you are. You're no hero_ , hissed the voice, once again hitting Fredrik's weak points.

Fredrik wearily got up and walked away from the water, eager to leave his heavy thoughts there. War with Weselton now appeared to be a possibility and Fredrik suspected General Broulard would be eager to give him a part in it. That alone gave him enough to worry about.

 _Monster_ , persisted the voice.

Fredrik continued walking, not really seeing his surroundings. He passed by the mango stand without noticing it, only wanting to get back to work.

* * *

Elsa sat in the royal library later that evening. After meetings, hours of reviewing documents, and the possibility of war in the not so distant future, she needed to relax. She opted to read instead of going for a walk. She was reading a one of her favorites, a collection of ancient Greek myths and stories. Something about them always captured her imagination. Maybe it was all supernatural powers. She could definitely relate.

As the queen flipped through the book, she came across a myth she knew well: the myth of Sisyphus. As she reread it, she couldn't help but see the similarities to her current situation. Despite her best hopes, she suspected her attempts to avoid war with Weselton were an exercise in futility, just like Sisyphus' attempts to push the boulder up the mountain. After all her efforts, that boulder would probably just roll back down the mountain and war would commence anyway. It wasn't an agreeable idea, but Elsa wasn't one to delude herself.

 _Being queen has made me such a pessimist_ , she thought.

So many lives hung in the balance, all them depending on what the Duke would do. Arendelle would never be the nation to start a conflict, no matter what General Mireau proposed. Just the thought of the scheming General made Elsa frown. She knew him well enough to know he was more concerned with personal glory than service, even at the expense of his men and his country. She suspected he wasn't much different than the Duke in that aspect…or Hans. If there was one thing all three of them seemed to share, it was their complete commitment to their own advancement. Elsa noticed the tiniest bits of frost creeping onto her book and focused on calming herself. Hans was gone, Mireau was her subordinate and the Duke was still a good boat-ride away.

Elsa lost herself in her reading, not looking up until late into the night. Finally deciding to go to bed, she got up and left the library. The castle halls were deserted, save for a few guards, who bowed at the sight of the queen. Elsa was just rounding a corner, when she ran straight into her little sister, whose blue eyes went wide with shock.

"Elsa! W-what're you doing here?" Anna asked, clearly not expecting to run into her older sister.

"I live here. It's kind of my home and workplace," answered Elsa.

"Oh right. That's not what I meant. I meant…uh, what're you doing up right now?"

"I was reading. What're you doing up this late? You wouldn't be sneaking out to see Kristoff would you? Or maybe you already did and you're just getting back."

Anna's eyes widened and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks despite her best efforts to suppress it.

"Don't be silly. I was just…out for a walk by the stables, enjoying the night," said Anna lamely.

"You look very pretty for a solitary late-night walk," observed Elsa wryly, noting Anna's appearance.

"Well, you gotta look your best. You never know when a dignitary may drop by."

"Uh huh," said Elsa, trying not to laugh at Anna's attempts at lying, "Just get to bed and stay there."

"Oh sure. I'm right on that," said Anna before disappearing down around the corner, relieved Elsa had let her go without a lecture.

Elsa shook her head before heading into her room. While she still worried for Anna, she was glad she was happy with Kristoff. It was all Elsa had ever wanted for her little sister: to be happy. If there was anybody who deserved it, it was her. Anna had always seen the best in people, even those who didn't deserve it. She'd always opened her arms to them and tried to be their friends. Even people who'd hurt her.

 _Like me_ , thought Elsa.

The thought made her sad, even though it wasn't exactly her fault she'd shut Anna out. Her parents hadn't handled the situation particularly well, although Elsa couldn't hold it against them. A child with uncontrollable ice-powers isn't something many parents have to deal with. But things were better now. Her parents were gone, but she and Anna were closer than they had been in years, something she valued more than anything else.

* * *

Fredrik lay awake that night in his quarters. He couldn't stop thinking about his new assignment. General Broulard had given him his own cavalry battalion to command, filled with experienced soldiers and eventually recruits who'd shown aptitude in training. He knew he could lead, but he wondered if he could command the respect of the experienced dragoons, many of whom were older than him. Fredrik hoped his reputation, including his nickname, would give him some aid in that department. He'd have to be The Lion to lead effectively, even if he didn't want to be.

He tossed and turned, sleep continuing to elude to him. With a sigh, he gave up and decided to go for a walk. The officer's quarters were separate from the infantry barracks. Fredrik walked into the small grove of trees off to the side of the building. It was a bit chilly out, but the lingering summer heat kept it from getting too cold. It was certainly warmer than it was in the castle.

Fredrik continued walking amongst the grove, but froze at the sight of two figures walking together in the moonlight. From his spot he couldn't make out their faces, but they wore what looked like general's uniforms. As they walked closer, Fredrik slipped behind a tree to avoid discovery.

"Do you think Weselton will attack?" asked a voice Fredrik didn't recognize.

"I'd bet my soul on it," said another sly voice.

Fredrik knew that last voice immediately. The sly tone was unmistakably General Mireau.

"At least our forces are increasing," said the other voice.

"Yes, our queen will increase our forces, but she won't use them. Meanwhile, Weselton can attack us whenever they choose. I swear incompetence runs in the family," said Mireau, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Family?"

"Yes family. Her father was an incompetent fool just like her. Even worse actually. He nearly ruined Arendelle by closing us off from the outside world and letting our military decay. When he finally took his dirt nap…or sea nap if you will…I had hoped Arendelle would finally have capable leadership. Instead, we got a twenty-one-year-old girl who's more concerned with the well-being peasants than decisive action," said Mireau hotly.

"I couldn't agree with you more. I suppose it's up to men like us to save Arendelle," observed the other voice.

"Truer words have never been spoken, my friend," said Mireau as the pair walked off into the darkness.

From his hiding spot behind the tree, Fredrik watched them go, barely controlling his seething anger. He couldn't believe what he'd heard. He had a momentary thought of attacking Mireau in the darkness and giving him a much deserved beating. The queen was only trying to avoid losing hundreds of Arendelle's troops yet Mireau found that condemnable. Evidently, he didn't consider the enlisted men people. They were nothing more than pawns to him, a means to an end. A resource to fuel his quest for personal glory. The queen obviously didn't see them that way. She realized they were real people with actual lives and loved ones who would miss them if they died in combat. It made Fredrik glad she was leading, knowing he, Jørgen and all his other comrades would never be sent into battle needlessly under her watch.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I really appreciated the first reviews and those who followed. Unfortunately, I was having some technical difficulties, so I deleted the story and re uploaded. Let's hope that fixes everything, but don't worry. This story isn't stopping anytime soon.**


	4. Chapter 4

"Of all the things you choose in life, you don't get to choose what your nightmares are. You don't pick them; they pick you." – John Irving

* * *

Elsa couldn't believe the party she was witnessing. It was grand, even grander than her coronation. The castle's royal ballroom was brightly decorated and filled with people, all joyful and festive. Notes of beautiful music flowed out from the band and onto the dance floor where couples moved gracefully to their rhythms. Everybody she knew was there, from her closest loved ones to distant acquaintances. Anna, Kristoff, Kai, Gerda, General Broulard, the Royal Council, Colonel Amundsen, Sven, Olaf and many others. Evidently it was a special occasion for a snowman and a reindeer to be brought inside. Elsa watched from her throne, smiling at the sight of the party and savoring the delicious smells that drifted up from the food awaiting the guests on the massive table against the far wall.

"Elsa!" called Anna, pushing through the crowd and dragging Kristoff behind her.

"Having fun?" Elsa asked with her best smile, which still couldn't match Anna's.

"I am, but you aren't! Come on and dance with somebody!" said Anna, releasing her grip on Kristoff's hand to try and motion her big sister off her throne.

"Anna, you know I don't dance."

"It's never too late to learn! Come on. Cut loose and have some fun."

"Yeah, come on, Elsa," said Olaf, waddling up to them from crowd, "Have some fun! It's not like you could dance any worse than Kristoff."

"Hey!" interjected the mountain man.

"Come on Elsa! You might just enjoy yourself if you give it a chance," Anna said.

"I don't know…"

"Who knows? You might even meet someone special."

"Anna, don't be silly," Elsa said, her face turning a faint shade of pink, "Besides, I think poor dancing is frowned upon at parties like these, especially when it's the queen."

"Well, it's a good thing you're not going to dance poorly then," Anna said cheerfully before seizing Elsa's hand and pulling her into the dancing crowd.

"Anna! Wait, I don' think –

Elsa's protests were lost in the ocean of sounds around them; hundreds of cheerful conversations mixed the beautiful music and the sound of dancing feet to create the liveliest atmosphere Elsa had ever seen. This wasn't the stiff affair her coronation was. There was actual energy here and the lack of royal inhibitions allowed all the guests to enjoy themselves. The alcohol flowed freely and none, save for the queen, seemed to be declining.

Then the tempo of the music changed sharply. Everything picked up, as if the already lively party had been hit with a shot of adrenaline. The occupants of the dance floor began to organize themselves in two rows across from each other with a strip of the open dance floor dividing them. They all began to clap as one member from each row would meet in the open section, briefly dance together, and return to their place.

 _Oh God,_ thought Elsa at the realization that her turn was getting closer and closer.

She attempted to slip out only to be stopped by Anna, who stood beside her, blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Oh no you don't. I'm not gonna let you miss something this fun," Anna said, playfully shoving Elsa back into her spot in the row.

Elsa was shaking as her turn approached, the faintest bits of frost forming on her fingers. Before she knew it, her turn came and she found herself moving mechanically out into the middle of the floor. She then saw that a young military officer was striding out from his line as well. He smiled charmingly and offered his hand. She hesitated. The others seemed completely oblivious to the queen's discomfort, clapping to the music, completely lost in their own enjoyment. The officer merely smiled again and nodded toward his outstretched hand. Pushing her hesitations aside, Elsa took it.

They began to dance. Gradually, Elsa felt her nerves dissipate. She wasn't nearly as bad as she thought she'd be. The steps were uncomplicated and the officer was a capable partner, gracefully leading her in the right directions. Elsa actually began to enjoy herself, the excitement and joy of the party proving to be contagious. The dance was lively, as was the atmosphere and every single one of the guests. Her excitement kept building and she was unable to recall the last time she'd had so much fun. She didn't notice the ice that began to form on her hands until the officer jumped back with a cry like he'd been burned. It was then Elsa noticed she'd frozen his hands.

"What've you done to me!?" he yelled, furious and terrified all at the same time as ice crept up his arms from his frozen hands.

The music stopped and every guest watched in horror as the young officer began to turn to ice.

"No! I-I didn't mean to," Elsa stammered, desperately trying thaw the soldier.

Her fear rose to new heights. The ice spread further and further up the man's body.

"Help me! Please!" he screamed terribly.

Then the screams came from more sources. Elsa looked around wildly to see every person in the room being encased by deadly ice that spread along the floor from beneath her feet.

"Elsa stop!" screeched Anna as she froze.

"Don't panic!" yelled Kristoff as ice spread over his shoulders.

"Your majesty! Don't do this!" flailed General Broulard, ice covering his aged body.

Then the voices were silent. Elsa looked to see lifeless, frozen statues of all the people who just moments ago had been enjoying a party… until _she_ got involved. Every dead, icy face added to Elsa's unmeasurable guilt, but one was the most terrible of all. Tears froze on the queen's face as she hugged the icy statue of Anna, once again a victim of her destructive powers.

"I-I'm so sorry," Elsa stuttered between sobs.

Elsa wept and continued to hold the statue, doubting her ability to stay upright. Cruel, insidious words ran through her mind, uttered months ago on a frozen fjord.

 _Your sister is dead because of you._

Elsa shot up in bed, chest heaving and small snowflakes falling from the ceiling. She almost expected to still be surrounded by her frozen victims. Instead, she was in the same room she'd gone to sleep in only a few hours ago. She put her head in her hands, face wet with tears.

 _It was all a dream. You haven't hurt anybody_ , Elsa told herself, trying to control her emotions.

Elsa knew everything that had happened that summer was an accident, but it didn't change the fact that many had suffered in the cold due to her. It didn't change the fact that she'd very nearly killed her own sister.

Wearily, Elsa climbed out of bed and put her robe on. Doubting her ability to sleep for the rest of the night, she went out onto the balcony accompanying the royal chamber. It offered an excellent view of Arendelle. Elsa looked out onto the town, only a few taverns lit up in the thick darkness. The stars and the other celestial bodies were spectacular, suspended in the black sky like fine ice crystals. The harbor was a smooth black mirror, its quiet surface reflecting the display of the heavens. A soft breeze blew in from the harbor, carrying a faint smell of salt. It was cool and crisp, as if the heat of the summer had retired for the night and allowed Elsa's preferred weather to return.

She sighed. Despite the pleasant weather and general serenity, she felt incredibly melancholy. It was easy to be composed and regal in the light of daytime. It was far more difficult in the dark of night.

* * *

"They're a fine lookin' bunch, aren't they?" commented Jørgen, his gaze on the dragoons drilling on the field before them.

"They certainly are," Fredrik observed, "And you forgot to address me as sir by the way."

Jørgen chuckled and rolled his eyes. Fredrik's one request to Broulard when he'd accepted the assignment to command the cavalry was that Jørgen be transferred under his command. It wasn't about wielding power over his friend. Fredrik just wanted a friendly face nearby.

"You seem to forget that you're not some random authority figure to me, my friend. I remember you before you were the Lion of Arendelle. I remember when you were just a scrawny street-rat that accidently discharged a crossbow bolt into his own foot," Jørgen said, laughing at the memory.

Fredrik groaned, remembering the embarrassing event from his early training at the academy.

"You're never going to let me forget that are you?"

"It's not like you could forget it anyway. Christ, I can still see the head-master's face when we carried you inside. Remember how he asked what happened?"

Fredrik smiled slightly, remembering the head-master's expression. By his face, you'd have thought he was the one with the arrow in his foot.

"Yeah, I remember," admitted Fredrik.

"Do you remember how you responded?" asked Jørgen with almost childish excitement.

Fredrik did, but knew Jørgen would have more fun telling it himself.

"No, it must've slipped my mind," lied Fredrik.

Jørgen grinned. "Well I certainly remembering. He asked what happened and you answered 'We were attacked by Mongolians out by the training field.' I c-couldn't keep a straight face. I just–

Jørgen dissolved into a fit of laughter, unable to finish his statement. Fredrik couldn't help but laugh a little too, even if he did still have a huge scar on his foot from the debacle.

"Too bad the head-master didn't appreciate your humor," Jørgen said.

"Yeah, we had to clean the latrine for a month after that," recalled Fredrik, "God, that smell never seemed to come off."

"Makes you miss the old days. At least back then the pieces of shit didn't wear officer's uniforms," observed Jørgen.

"You know you're an officer right?"

"I'm just a lowly captain. I'm certainly no General Mireau."

Fredrik nodded. He'd discovered through the discussions they'd had that his friend had an even stronger dislike for Mireau than him.

"I can't believe that old snake wanted to attack Weselton. It'd be a damned miracle if any of us even lived through the attempt," said Jørgen bitterly, having been informed of the council meeting's discussions by his friend.

"I wouldn't fret about that too much. The queen seemed pretty unmovable."

"Shame she didn't freeze him right there."

Fredrik laughed.

"By the way she reacted, I think she wanted to."

"Let's hope she keeps that fire. If Weselton comes after us, we're gonna need all the help we can get."

"At least she's expanding our forces."

"Yeah, but you're leading some of them! I think we just might be doomed," quipped Jørgen.

"Go jump in the harbor," responded Fredrik.

"Don't be that way. I thought lions were supposed to be friendly."

"I think that's horses, my friend," said Fredrik, leaning down to pat Odysseus.

Odysseus whinnied and shook his brown mane out. As weird as it sounded, Fredrik considered his trusty steed a friend. They'd been to hell and back, taking the best hits Africa could give and surviving together. For Fredrik, the biggest perk of being back in cavalry was the increased access to his horse.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. The men trained, Fredrik and Jørgen assessed, the horses whinnied, the wind blew and the sun shined. Fredrik elected to go for a short ride in the hills after training ended, while Jørgen decided to get an early start on the taverns. Fredrik rode along a small trail. The grass swayed in the wind like a green sea. Fredrik inhaled, savoring the feeling of the cool air filling his lungs. He never felt more alive than on days like these. On days like these, all the ugliness of his past seemed oceans away. He didn't feel like the Lion. He didn't feel like a runaway or a bastard child. He just felt like a man.

Fredrik crested another green hill on Odysseus and looked back. He could see all of Arendelle, out to the clear blue waters of the harbor that matched the sky. There was little activity, save for a few ships drifting lazily out to sea.

 _It looks so peaceful_ , he mused.

In his lifetime of conflict, these moments were the ones he cherished most.


	5. Chapter 5

"No one is useless in this world who lightens the burdens of another." – Charles Dickens

* * *

Days passed quickly for Queen Elsa, caught up the whirlwind of her royal duties. Summer soon slipped away and autumn was eager to take its 't have been happier. The heat of summer of was gone, Arendelle's yearly harvest was imminent and Weselton hadn't sent any envoys in weeks. Every day without contact, Elsa became more hopeful that conflict could be averted; that thousands of lives wouldn't have to be sacrificed. General Broulard had been hopeful as well, informing the Queen of the army's progress since its expansion. His sources hadn't noticed any increased military activity in Weselton and hoped Arendelle's growing strength would deter them.

Elsa was back in the library reading. After meeting with General Broulard and a few other officers, including the General Mireau who kept his mouth shut for his own sake, Elsa had to review numerous foreign trade proposals (most of which were ridiculous). The activity had taken hours and the queen was worn out. Anna was out with Kristoff and Elsa was too tired to go for a walk, so she elected to read. This time, _The Iliad_ beckoned. It was a longtime favorite of hers, made even more engrossing by her current situation.

 _There are certainly crazier things to go to war over than trade_ , mused Elsa as she read about Paris stealing Helen from Menelaus thanks to Aphrodite. _Actually, the Duke isn't that different from Menelaus or Agamemnon. They're all willing to spill blood for petty reasons. All that matters is that they get what they want in the end, no matter the cost._

Elsa was completely absorbed in reading about Hector slaying Patroclus when the door to the library swung open. She was annoyed until she saw who it was.

"Hi Elsa!" greeted Olaf as he waddled across the mahogany floor to where the queen sat.

"Hi Olaf. What brings you in here?" asked Elsa, smiling warmly at the affectionate snowman.

"You. Anna and Kristoff are both gone and I wanted somebody to talk to."

Elsa giggled and gave Olaf the warmest hug she could muster. She had a soft-spot for the snowman and his unfailing friendliness and optimism. In that way, he was a lot like Anna.

"Well, we can certainly talk now," Elsa said as the snowman hopped onto the couch beside her.

"So…what're you reading?" Olaf asked.

" _The Iliad_. It's an ancient Greek epic by Homer."

"What's it about?"

"Well…it's about a war and all the people wrapped up in it, kings, warriors, queens-

"Like you?"

"Sorta, except these royals don't have any powers. They just command armies."

"Oh that's so boring! Each one of them should have some power. It'd make the war a lot more interesting."

Elsa laughed. "Well Olaf, maybe we can dig Homer up and give him some notes."

"You brought me to life. I'm sure you could find a way to resurrect some dead Greek guy."

Olaf's blunt humor never failed to amuse the queen.

"So are you excited?" asked the snowman after a moment of silence.

"It's a good story, but I find reading more relaxing than exciting," Elsa answered.

"No, not that. I meant are you excited about the harvest festival."

 _Oh shit_ , thought Elsa.

She'd completely forgotten about the harvest festival, one of Arendelle's biggest yearly events. It was scheduled in only a little over a week and she hadn't given her council any orders on it. The royal ball still had to be organized along with all the logistics that would go into the kingdom-wide celebration.

"I completely forgot about that," she said, mentally chiding herself for forgetting something so big.

"Forgot about what?" asked Anna cheerfully, standing in the door to the library.

"Anna!" exclaimed Olaf, hopping off the couch and heading towards her with his arms outstretched.

Anna laughed and embraced the little snowman in a warm hug of her own. "It's good to see you Olaf."

"Did you have fun with Kristoff?" asked Elsa.

"Ohmygosh yes! We went out hiking in the forest. Elsa, you have to see the trees! They're turning red and orange and yellow and purple and it's so gorgeous! We would've stayed longer but Kristoff had some deliveries to make – but never mind all that," said Anna, a little breathless from speaking so quickly, "What've you forgotten about?"

Elsa flushed slightly, embarrassed she'd forgotten something as important as the harvest festival.

"I forgot about the harvest festival," she answered plainly.

Anna's blue eyes widened slightly. "Elsa how could you forget something so big? It and the spring festival are our biggest celebrations every year!"

"I didn't do it on purpose. I've just been distracted by the foreign proposals, our army and whatever's going on with Weselton," Elsa said in her defense.

"Wait, what's going on with Weselton now?" asked Anna, her voice changing from playful to concerned.

"At the moment nothing, which may be good or bad. General Broulard's hoping they've finally taken a hint and are going to leave Arendelle alone."

"Don't worry Elsa. If they show up, you can just freeze them," suggested Olaf bluntly.

"Well, the snow queen is an intimidating weapon," said Anna wryly, "For those who don't know she's a softy deep down."

Elsa rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smile at the statement.

"Anyway, as long as Weaseltown is quiet, getting the harvest festival together shouldn't be a problem," Anna said.

"I guess, but I don't really have much experience when it comes to stuff like this. Remember how the last party went?" asked Elsa.

"Oh Elsa, stop worrying so much…y'know I could help you organize everything if you want," suggested Anna, sounding almost hopeful.

Elsa looked at Anna, fidgeting a little bit and her blue eyes sparkling, awaiting an answer. It was obvious Anna wanted to help, just like she always did.

"Sure. I could definitely use some help with something like this," said Elsa warmly.

Anna's face lit up and she embraced her big sister in a hug. "Oh thank you Elsa! This'll be so much fun. We'll have to tell the council about decorating the ballroom and finding musicians and organizing the food. Oh, make sure there's chocolate and –

Elsa let Anna go on for a while. Her energy was infectious and it felt good to be collaborating with her little sister on something. Still, thought of a party made her a bit nervous, memories of her dream and her coronation never far from her thoughts.

Fredrik knocked back another beer as he lounged in his new favorite tavern, _La_ _Iruña._ It was a bit of a ride to get to, but worth it. _La_ _Iruña_ was a squat timber building nestled among the green foothills of Arendelle's mountains that catered mostly to the loggers and ice-harvesters that frequented the area. It was run by Señora Montoya, a Spanish expatriate who'd apparently lived in Arendelle a while. Jørgen had recommended the tavern, having discovered it on Arendelle's outskirts in the time Fredrik had been abroad. He could see why his friend thought so highly of it. There was a warm, friendly atmosphere that improved the mood of even the most downtrodden patrons. The drinks were cheap, the food was good, the company was pleasant and it was completely separate from the world of the high command, perfect for a soldier.

Fredrik leaned back in his chair and watched the group of loggers huddled by the roaring fireplace, their shadows dancing on the floor. They joked and laughed, the intrusive presence of the outside world unfelt. In a way, he envied them. Their cares, although not present, concerned only simple things like trees. His dealt with terrible things: blood, territory and duty. His feelings towards his job were muddled at best. He got pleasure from knowing he was serving and protecting Arendelle and he enjoyed the comradery with his fellow soldiers, yet there was another side as always. All the lives he'd taken in service of Arendelle were costly, gradually eroding the fractured remnants of his soul.

 _Monster_ , whispered a dark voice in the young colonel's mind

"Shut up," he muttered, before drinking the rest of his beer.

He stood up and wandered back towards the bar where Montoya relaxed. She was middle-aged, but still retained some semblance of youth. Her long black hair was pulled back from her olive-skinned face and tied in a bun, revealing her warm brown eyes.

"Hola Colonel. Need another one?" asked the Spaniard with friendly smile.

"More than ever, Señora," Fredrik answered, handing his mug over.

"Where's Captain Larsen tonight?"

"He ran off earlier with some girl. He'll probably turn up wandering the streets tomorrow."

"You men are such terrible beasts, ruined by your most base desires," joked Montoya as she filled Fredrik's mug to the brim.

"The lives of soldiers are short, Señora. We have to do our living while we can," quipped Fredrik as he took his mug and returned to his table.

Fredrik sipped his beer and leaned back further, hoping the influence of the alcohol would numb his worries for the evening. Montoya looked busier than ever, dozens of rustic patrons entering, eager to begin carousing in the friendly environment of _La_ _Iruña_. A new group of men huddled in front of the fireplace, but this group wasn't joking. They were singing, the deep notes resonating through the buzzing tavern. Fredrik listened closer and realized he recognized the song, having heard it many times on his sea voyages.

 _Of all the money that e're I had_

 _I spent it in good company_

 _And all the harm that e're I done_

 _Alas it was to none but me_

 _And all I've done for want of wit_

 _To memory now I can't recall_

 _So fill to me the parting glass_

 _Good night and joy be with you all_

Fredrik was transfixed, the pure words of the song resounding within his mind. The tavern was suddenly empty. Only he and the music remained.

 _Of all the comrades that e're I had_

 _They are sorry for my going away_

 _And all the sweethearts that e're I loved_

 _They would wish me one more day to stay_

 _But since it falls unto my lot_

 _That I should rise and you should not_

 _I'll gently rise and I'll softly call_

 _Good night and joy be with you all_

A tear sliding down Fredrik's face snapped him back to reality. He quickly wiped it off and hustled out of _La Iruña_ as the song continued behind him, eager to preserve his dignity. He found Odysseus tied out front where he'd left him. It felt good to be in the presence of a friend, although Fredrik was still a little embarrassed about his unmanly display, even in the presence of a horse. He saddled up and rode off, down the sleepy roads back to Arendelle's barracks.

Sven trudged along, pulling the heavy ice cart behind him, accompanied by the ice master of Arendelle himself. Kristoff had wanted to make these deliveries earlier, but his date with Anna had prevented it. Anna had given him doe eyes and he just couldn't say no. So now he was out late delivering the ice orders. The night was crisp, autumn's presence not far away. He pulled up to _The Captain's Daughter_ and made his delivery to the rowdy tavern. Ice wouldn't be in demand too much longer and Kristoff was glad for the business.

Kristoff and Sven headed onward, eventually approaching a wooden bridge spanning one of Arendelle's creeks. A few taverns lay beyond, expecting their ice delivery for tomorrow's business. Kristoff was eager to reach them and get to bed, yet he hesitated, noticing the group loitering near the bridge. They looked rough, not like loggers or ice harvesters. Something about their unshaven faces and cold, searching eyes was sinister. Kristoff fixed his gaze ahead, hoping his size would be enough to deter the men.

"Where ya goin', friend?" called out one of the rouges.

"Tavern," answered Kristoff tersely, hoping to end the conversation as soon as possible.

"That's a pretty full cart for drinking. Whatcha hauling?" asked the same man.

Kristoff observed him. The man doing the talking was tall but lean. A crooked yellow smile was plastered onto his face, but Kristoff was not fooled. The man's eyes betrayed something predatory.

"Ice. I'm just making deliveries, now if you'll excuse me –

The lean man stepped in front of Kristoff's cart rapidly. "Hold your horses…or reindeer. We just talkin'. No need to leave so suddenly."

Kristoff's eyes drifted to the side as he noticed the other three men circling behind him like prowling wolves. None were as big as him, but he was outnumbered.

"I appreciate the welcoming committee, but I've got work to do," Kristoff said, frustration seeping into his voice.

He attempted to motion Sven onward only to be blocked again.

"I said we talkin', friend. Don't ya have any manners? Anyways, how's the ice trade?"

Kristoff narrowed his eyes in response.

"Must be pretty lucrative, especially before the snow falls. How much money you got in that fine cart of yours?"

"Don't worry about that money. None of it belongs to you," Kristoff answered.

The man smiled again. Kristoff could hear the others laugh behind him.

"I think you're a bit mistaken on that part, friend. Boys, please relieve our friend here of his excess funds," commanded the lean man.

As soon as he felt one of the thugs grab his shoulder, Kristoff wheeled around and delivered a thunderous punch to his assailant's face. Blood spurted out of the man's mouth on contact as he fell to the ground. One of the others tried the same tactic and was rewarded with an elbow to the ribs. Suddenly, Kristoff felt a slash across his arm. He turned to see the lean man had produced a wickedly sharp knife, stained with his blood and gleaming in the moonlight. While he was distracted, one of the others got a shot in. Kristoff staggered against his cart as the four thugs, now all back on their feet, surrounded him. The lean man stood directly in front of him, waving his knife menacingly.

"I guess ya don't have any manners. Allow us to remedy that," said the lean man, advancing forward.

The sound of a crossbow bolt being locked into place grabbed everyone's attention. Kristoff and the four thugs looked to see Fredrik, dismounted and aiming the arrow directly at the lean man's head.

"Get the hell out here," Fredrik said, his voice cold.

The lean man peered at Fredrik through his beady eyes. "Just keep ridin', friend. This don't concern you."

"I said get out of here," growled Fredrik.

"Are you crazy? Just go home and mind your own business."

"Yeah, sure. I'll put an arrow right between your eyes and then I'll go home and sleep like a baby. You can count on that."

"You must be crazy. You gonna kill a man for some ice harvester you don't even know?"

"I've killed men for a lot less. Four more won't make much difference."

The lean man didn't answer this immediately. He merely looked at Fredrik's cold, pitiless eyes and the arrow aimed directly at his face.

"Fine. See ya around, friend," sneered the lean man.

He motioned for the others to follow. The group, two of them walking and the other two staggering, disappeared down the road.

"Thanks for the help," said Kristoff, gripping his knife wound.

"No problem. I'd be a pretty sorry soldier if I just let those thugs rob you," Fredrik said.

"Bastards," muttered Kristoff, blood seeping between his fingers.

"Here, let me wrap that for you," said Fredrik, putting his crossbow down and retrieving a strip of cloth from his saddlebags.

He quickly wrapped the mountain man's wound in the cloth, stemming the blood flow.

"You said you're a soldier?" asked Kristoff.

"Yeah. Right now, I'm part of Arendelle's cavalry," answered Fredrik.

"What's your name?"

"Fredrik…Fredrik Amundsen."

Kristoff shook Fredrik's hand. "Kristoff Bjorgman."

"What're you doing out here anyway?" asked Fredrik, who'd showed up during the fight and hadn't heard any of the conversation preceding it.

"Late-night ice deliveries. Those taverns burn through it pretty quickly."

"You done for the night?"

"Unfortunately, no. There's a still a few more I have to hit before I can go home."

Fredrik hesitated. He was eager to get back to the barracks and get some rest, but the soldier in him wouldn't allow it.

"Listen, do you want me to ride with you on those last deliveries. Y'know, just in case those thugs are hanging around somewhere?"

Kristoff thought for a moment. He didn't want this man to think he couldn't handle himself, but he was unarmed. And those thugs obviously weren't.

"Sure, why not. I could use some company anyway."

The pair traveled up the road, making the necessary ice deliveries. The men talked freely. Fredrik revealed his rank and the fact that he'd served abroad, while Kristoff talked about his work as Arendelle's official ice master. The more they talked, the more Fredrik grew to like the mountain man, a feeling that was reciprocated. After the last delivery, the pair returned to Arendelle.

"Thanks again for your help, Fredrik," Kristoff said as Fredrik motioned Odysseus off towards the barracks.

"We all gotta help each other out sometimes. I'll see you around," answered Fredrik, riding away.

"Have a good night," called out Kristoff as he went his own way.

Fredrik returned to his quarters after leaving Odysseus in the stables. He lay in his bed afterwards, replaying the events in his mind. He thought most about what he'd said, how he'd lied and told the truth. He could've killed them and it wouldn't have made much difference. But he definitely wasn't going to be sleeping that night. He wasn't sure when taking a life had become so easy for him, so routine. He found that more disturbing than the action itself, a glaring symbol of his lost humanity.

 _Lion_ , thought Fredrik, _Maybe you really are an animal._

These thoughts were the real him. These apprehensions were genuine, hidden behind facades of bravado and hard-boiled machismo. Something not befitting the story that had latched onto him like a parasite.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Happy New Year to everyone! Special shout out to Dr. Dog-Fax-Lover for a very kind review. As always, all favorites, reviews and follows are greatly appreciated.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

_"The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them" – Ernest Hemingway  
_

* * *

Elsa had to say Anna was impressing her. The ballroom was coming along splendidly despite the general flurry of activity. The council hadn't hesitated to carryout her orders and were now ensuring the kingdom's harvest festival would run smoothly while she'd tied up a few loose ends concerning trade. All that remained was the ballroom for the royal ball and Anna was actually coming into her own about it. Elsa noticed she had a knack for the organization and worked well with the planners. She just had an ease with people that her older sister didn't possess. Elsa mostly observed, offering her opinion when asked but content to let Anna excel. Anna was in serious discussion with one of the planners about something, while Elsa got lost in her own head.

"Elsa, should we go with red or orange?" asked Anna.

"For what?" asked Elsa, not paying attention to the conversation.

Anna rolled her eyes playfully. "For the curtains. I was thinking orange to go with the season."

Elsa shrugged. She was glad to be with Anna, but the color of the curtains really didn't mean a thing to her.

"Orange should be fine," said Elsa.

"Should we get an ice sculpture?"

Elsa laughed. "I don't think we have to order something like that."

"Duh. I can't believe I forgot about that. We could have a whole ballroom of ice if we wanted," Anna said, slapping her forehead.

"Your majesty," interjected the planner, "Is there anyone in particular we should extend invites to?"

"Not that I'm aware of. All of Arendelle's nobles have already been invited and this isn't the sort of celebration other heads of state attend," Elsa answered.

"Ugh. After the Duke and Hans, I think we've seen enough foreign visitors for a while," Anna said, making a face.

Elsa chuckled. "I never thought I'd be the one more open visitors."

"Well, when you get engaged to a scheming sociopath that tries to kill you and take over the kingdom, you might feel the same way," answered Anna with a sarcastic laugh.

"Speaking of engaged, where's Kristoff?"

Anna blushed a little bit at the implication of marriage. "You know we're not engaged…and he said he was gonna sleep in this morning. He was out late last night making deliveries."

"Excuse me, your majesty," said the planner, clearing her throat, "I don't mean to interrupt but we do have a tight deadline to meet."

"Of course. Go ahead," said Elsa.

The next several hours consisted of Anna and the planner discussing so many things it made Elsa's head hurt and the queen occasionally giving her consent or opinion. She was glad Anna had been so eager to help, knowing she wouldn't have fared nearly as well. Elsa was about to return to her chamber when Kai came hurrying towards her.

"Your majesty!"

"What is it, Kai?"

Kai was huffing and red-faced, having run all over the castle to locate the queen. "There's a visitor at the docks requesting to see you."

* * *

Anna strolled merrily away from the castle, her spirits higher than the soft clouds drifting through the afternoon sky. The royal ball was squared away, she'd gotten to spend time with Elsa and now she was off to see Kristoff. Elsa would probably be upset at her for sneaking away from the royal guards, but they didn't exactly make for a romantic visit.

It really was a beautiful day, filled with bright sunshine and a cool breeze coming down from the mountains. The town bustled with activity, vendors hocking their wares to everyone who walked by, ice harvesters and farmers bringing their produce in and haggling noisily over prices. It was quite a sight and it excited Anna for the harvest festival. She could already see it, music, dancing, laughing, all with Kristoff by her side. Still, it made her a little sad for Elsa. Her older sister had endured just as much loneliness as her, if not more, and deserved happiness, the kind that couldn't be provided by a sister.

She skipped up to Kristoff's lodge and knocked on the door in her usual rhythmic fashion. After a few moments and some indiscernible noise, the door opened to reveal Kristoff, clad in only a white shirt and loose grey pants.

"Your highness, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" asked Kristoff with mock formality and a goofy grin on his friendly face.

Anna's eyes sparkled. "Oh, just here to mingle with my absolute favorite commoner."

Kristoff beckoned her inside and embraced the girl he loved so much. He always felt better in her presence. She exuded some vibrancy, some love of life that he'd never seen in anyone until he met her. He loved Sven and the trolls, but was also glad to see all Anna could show him about people.

"So, are you well-rested after your rigorous night of ice deliveries?" asked Anna, leaning against Kristoff's table.

"I am well-rested and ready to go," confirmed the mountain man.

"Perfect. Want to go swimming? The ocean won't be nice too much longer."

Kristoff laughed. "I'm in."

Kristoff pulled a pair of shoes on and he and Anna hurried down to the ocean like a pair of excited kids. Kristoff was apparently eager to hop in the cold water himself and began to take his shirt off. Anna was admiring his muscular torso when she noticed something.

"Kristoff, what's that?"

"What?"

"That. On your arm."

"Oh…uh, that's nothing."

Kristoff tried to turn his arm away, but Anna looked closer. She saw Kristoff had some type of cut on his bicep that had been crudely stitched.

"That doesn't look like nothing. Looks like a nasty cut."

"It's fine."

Anna frowned. "What happened to you?"

Kristoff hesitated, not wanting to reveal the truth but fully aware he was a terrible liar.

"I…may have gotten into a bit of a fight last night."

"You got this in a fist-fight!? How'd you get in a fist-fight delivering ice anyway?"

"It wasn't exactly a fist-fight. These guys tried to rob me on the road and one of them had a knife…"

"Kristoff, why didn't tell us! We could've sent guards and had them arrested or something! You could've been killed!"

"Calm down! I'm fine and nobody got hurt too bad. This guy showed up and scared 'em off."

"Wait. What guy?"

"This soldier named Fredrik. He pulled a crossbow out and told them to hit the road. Nothing happened after that."

Anna calmed herself, knowing her excitability was a bit of a flaw of hers. There was nobody she loved like Kristoff and Elsa and the thought of either of them dying was unbearable. Still, Kristoff was fine…thanks to the help of a complete stranger.

"Nice of that guy to help you out. What'd you say his name was?"

"Fredrik."

"Yeah, but what about his last name?"

Kristoff thought for a moment, trying to retrieve the detail from the dark recesses of his memory.

"Amundsen!" exclaimed Kristoff, snapping his large fingers, "Fredrik Amundsen. He said he was a colonel in the cavalry."

"Well, I'd say we owe Mr. Amundsen our gratitude and I'd like to thank him in person for saving you," Anna said.

"We could look around the barracks for him," suggested Kristoff.

"I think I have a better idea," Anna said with a bright smile.

* * *

Elsa tapped her fingers nervously on the armrest of her throne. Kai had informed her that the foreign visitor was some noble from the kingdom of Capri who wanted to wait to meet the queen before divulging any more information. The secrecy was suspicious…and confusing given that Capri didn't seem to have anything to hide. Arendelle had cordial relations with the island nation, but little else. Elsa tried to remember if the king and queen had come to her coronation, but couldn't.

 _What could they want? We aren't allies, but we aren't enemies either. We both just…exist,_ thought Elsa.

Then the doors to the throne room swung open with Kai leading a small entourage of men clad in elaborate black and red outfits. Arendelle's guards took defensive positions on either side of the throne, their eyes fixed on the foreigners and the hands clenched on their weapons. Remembering her ice powers, Elsa had to suppress a smirk at the protective gesture.

"Your majesty, may I present Count Roman Montressor of Capri," announced Kai, motioning towards the group.

The man who appeared to be the count stepped forward and bowed. He wore a black naval uniform complete with red trim and a matching red cape embroidered with a trident, the symbol of Capri. His black hair was slicked back from his sun-tanned, youthful face and he flashed a snow-white smile at the queen.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, your majesty. If I may be so bold, the rumors of your beauty have not been exaggerated," drawled the count smoothly, his hazel eyes playful.

That took Elsa back. She wasn't quite sure how to respond to a comment like that from a handsome gentleman, but Anna's relationship with Hans had made her wary of foreigners, especially the nobles.

 _After all, the devil may wear a smile_ , thought Elsa as her icy blue eyes met the count's.

"Thank you, Count Montressor. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but I must say I wasn't expecting your visit," Elsa said.

"Yes, your majesty. I'm afraid my visit was ordered on rather short notice by his majesty, King Baldwin. We were hoping correspondence would reach Arendelle before I did, but we couldn't take the chance of getting caught in storm season."

Elsa knew that well. The waters near Arendelle were always treacherous in the autumn, claiming many unfortunate souls over the years, including her own parents.

"King Baldwin actually sent me in hope of expanding trade between our respective kingdoms," said the count.

"Why now?"

"Because Arendelle has opened itself up to the outside world for the first time in many years. The king and queen were unable to attend your coronation due to personal matters, but are making an effort now."

 _So, the monarchs of Capri didn't see the…spectacle this summer. They must've heard about it though. Do they want a military alliance as well or is trade really all they're after? And why send him? A letter would've sufficed,_ thought Elsa, the wheels in her head turning as she analyzed Count Montressor.

He seemed charming, although that might've been exactly what King Baldwin wanted. Arendelle, while not as powerful a nation as the Southern Isles, still held more sway than Capri. Really all the island nation had going for it was its navy.

"I'm surprised King Baldwin wouldn't just send a letter. I give all trade proposals careful consideration."

Count Montressor smiled that dazzling smile again. "His majesty was hoping an actual diplomat would convey our sincerity more clearly and he has faith in my abilities."

"You and the king sound close."

"We should be. He is my great-uncle after all."

Elsa made a mental-note of that. Not only was this guy slick, he also had connections to the royal family.

"Well Count Montressor, I am willing to listen to your proposal, but it may have to wait a bit. Arendelle is currently preparing for its harvest festival, but if you are willing to stay until afterwards, we can discuss it. You are also welcome to attend the royal ball yourself."

Count Montressor smiled again and bowed. Elsa could almost swear the sunlight gleamed off his teeth.

"I will find lodgings immediately and I thank you again for your hospitality on such short notice, your majesty."

"It's no trouble."

"If I may be so bold, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

The Count exited with a flourish, his entourage trailing behind him like ducklings as Kai conducted them out. Elsa thought over the situation long after the Count had departed.

 _Is he up to something or am I just being paranoid?_ Elsa wondered, receiving no answer but the silence of her throne room.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** **Started off boring, but managed to pick up by the end. What do you guys think of Montressor? Personally, I love the mysterious characters. Remember to review. If I hear something I like, it might just make it in the story.**


	7. Chapter 7

"Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others." – Marcus Tullius Cicero

* * *

A sharp, metallic clash rang through the air as Fredrik blocked the swing of Jørgen's sword.

"Glad to see you haven't gotten slow in your old age," quipped Jørgen as the two paced around each other like a pair of lions.

"Glad to see you haven't gotten soft from being out of combat," returned Fredrik, directing a swing of his own at his friend.

Jørgen blocked it easily. Despite being out of the field, he was a capable swordsman and a worthy sparring partner for Fredrik.

"Come on, Lion. What was that?" laughed Jørgen, bobbing back and forth like a boxer.

Fredrik attempted to break Jørgen's defenses with a heavy blow towards his middle, which the captain nimbly dodged.

"Christ, how'd you ever defeat anybody with sorry swings like those? Where's the famous warrior I've heard so much about?" Jørgen taunted.

Jørgen was starting to get under Fredrik's skin. Part of him knew his friend was just teasing, but another part of him really wanted to knock Jørgen upside the head.

"I guess the Lion is really just a little kitten. God knows why Broulard put you in charge," tutted Jørgen, casually twirling his sword.

Fredrik's eyes narrowed. His lips curled back into a snarl as he began a barrage of blows with his sword. Jørgen was taken back by his opponent's sudden surge of energy and swung left and right rapidly in an effort to block the furious assault. Fredrik's temper had gotten the better of him. He heard nothing, his focus solely on besting his opponent. Sparks flew as the steel collided again. When Jørgen raised his sword to block the next swing, Fredrik seized his opportunity. A well-placed kick to Jørgen's gut broke his defenses and a quick elbow across his face took him to the ground, his sword clattering out of his hand. Jørgen's jaw ached as he attempted to steady his vision, seeing three shaky Fredrik's looming over him, sword in hand.

Fredrik pointed his sword down at Jørgen. "Yield," he commanded.

Jørgen rubbed the side of his face and attempted to smile.

"Remind me to never spar with you again. A face this nice wasn't mean to be bruised," he quipped.

Fredrik rolled his eyes and helped Jørgen up. "I think it's an improvement."

"It's still far prettier than yours. C'mon, I need a real headache to replace this one. Let's get a drink," Jørgen said as he and Fredrik walked away from the training fields.

The pair were about to head off to _La Iruña_ when Fredrik spotted Private Dahl, one of the dragoons under his command, jogging towards him.

"Colonel Amundsen!" he called out.

"Lucas, how many times have I told you to call me Fredrik when we're not training?" Fredrik asked with a small laugh.

Private Dahl was barely eighteen and had the thin, lanky body of someone who hadn't fully matured yet. The way his grey eyes flickered away nervously from his commanding officer's face betrayed some youthful insecurity. Still, his loyalty was unquestionable and he trained hard, secretly making him one of Fredrik's favorites.

"I'm sorry, but a message just arrived for you."

"Hold it for me. I'll be back in a couple hours."

"Uh…I don't think you want to do that, sir. It's a _royal_ message."

Fredrik was perplexed at that. What could the royal family want with him? He'd only spoken to the queen once and hadn't had any contact with the other members of the royal family.

"My, my, my Fredrik. When do you receive your title?" drawled Jørgen.

Fredrik let out a sigh. "You get started without me. I'll go handle this."

Fredrik headed over to the command building where the messenger waited, clad in the ceremonial uniform of all castle servants.

"Colonel Amundsen, I presume?" asked the messenger as Fredrik approached.

"You presume correctly. To what do I owe this honor?"

"This. A message directly from the royal family," answered the messenger, extending a white envelope sealed with the wax crest of Arendelle.

Fredrik took it and broke the wax seal as the messenger departed. It read:

 _Colonel Amundsen,_

 _I would like to extend my own personal gratitude and gratitude on behalf of the royal family of Arendelle for your intervention in the robbery attempt on my loved one, Kristoff Bjorgman. Many people would've kept riding, considering it to be someone else's problem. It would've been far easier to ignore it, but you chose the far more difficult option: to help someone in need. I know it isn't much, but I would like to extend an invitation to you to attend the royal ball during this year's harvest festival. I hope you are able to attend as I would prefer to thank you in person than through a letter._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Princess Anna of Arendelle_

Fredrik couldn't believe what he'd just read. His mind whirled back to that evening on the road and his encounter with the ice master and apparently Princess Anna's lover.

 _I suppose Kristoff forgot to mention that little detail,_ he thought.

Did he want to attend? He wasn't sure. It might be interesting to see the royal ball, but the peasant one was always lively and he hadn't been since he left home three years ago. Jørgen and the other soldiers would probably all go and enjoy themselves at the taverns that evening and something told Fredrik that'd be more fun than watching a collection of Arendelle's posh aristocrats waltz. Still, it might be frowned upon to refuse a personal invitation from the princess of Arendelle.

 _I suppose I'll have to go, even if Jørgen will never let me hear the end of it_ , thought Fredrik as he hurried to the stables, letter still in his hand.

Odysseus was right where he'd left him. Fredrik ran his hand over his trusty steed's soft brown mane and offered him an apple, his favorite treat. He quickly saddled him and rode off towards _La Iruña._ The late afternoon sun spread the shadows of the pine trees out across the dirt road. It had rained earlier that day and the air was cool with the faintest hints of moisture, spreading themselves across the blades of grass like tiny crystals. The softened dirt of the road was scarred with the dents of horseshoes and the canyons of wagon wheels.

Fredrik reached _La Iruña_ quickly. He tied Odysseus up and strolled inside in search of Jørgen. A lot of soldiers were already there, even a couple he recognized from the cavalry. He saw Señora Montoya behind the bar as usual.

"Hello Señora. Have you seen Jørgen around?" Fredrik asked.

"That fine specimen of humanity is at the back table, trying to drink the tavern dry," answered Montoya with a smirk.

Fredrik headed to the back to find Jørgen relaxing in his chair, an opened bottle of whiskey and a glass on the table in front of him.

"There's my favorite aristocrat! Done with your royal affairs for the day?" asked Jørgen, fortunately still somewhat sober.

"At the moment, yes, but who knows," Fredrik said, taking one of the empty seats at the table, "Feels like I'm getting sucked in."

"What'd that message say anyway?" asked Jørgen, pouring himself another drink.

"Well, you remember that guy I told you about? The one who was being robbed on the road?"

"Yes Fredrik. I'm fully aware of what a hero you are," said Jørgen, prompting Fredrik to roll his eyes.

"That guy turned out to be Princesss Anna's boyfriend or lover or something along those lines."

"That so?" asked Jørgen, holding the glass of whiskey he was about to drink, "Well, I imagine you're entitled to some royal favors now. If it was me, I'd ask for an island. That or my own personal brothel."

"Y'know Jørgen, you're a man of real sophistication," Fredrik said, shaking his head and laughing.

Jørgen shrugged. "At least my desires can be sated. That's more than most people ever get. Most of these fools spend their whole lives chasing the horizon; chasing the impossible. But not me because I'm a man of simple tastes. I can have a drink, meet of lovely lady and carouse with my comrades whenever I choose. If you ask me, that's a finer life than reaching out for something and always coming up empty."

Fredrik thought for a moment, contemplating what his friend had said. Every now and then Jørgen would impress him, hinting that there was a lot more activity between his ears than he let on.

"Anyways, the princess invited me to the royal ball during the festival. She said she wanted to thank me in person," Fredrik said.

Jørgen snorted at this, unable to suppress his laughter. "That's a damn shame. You're gonna miss all the fun and have to put up with a pack of pompous nobles just to receive a thank you as a reward…if you can even call it that."

"You think I could just decline?" asked Fredrik.

Jørgen shook his head. "That's not the kinda thing you can weasel your way out of, buddy."

Fredrik nodded in response. It wasn't the answer he wanted, but it was the truth.

"I'm just messin' with ya, y'know? That ball might be interesting. Who knows, maybe you'll pick up some stunning noblewoman with your down-to-earth charm," laughed Jørgen.

Fredrik chuckled. "Somehow I doubt that."

* * *

In the chaos of festival preparations, nobody noticed the dark, quiet ship that slipped out of Arendelle's harbor during the night, bound for an unpopulated island far off the coast. The crew had been sworn to silence by the shadowy figure commanding the vessel. Dark clouds filled the night sky, blotting out the stars and the silver moon. The ship soon reached the island and sailed into a wide inlet nobody save for a few knew about. A ship was already there, flying the flag of Weselton. The leader was welcomed on to the ship and taken down into the darkness below deck. The Duke of Weselton was waiting, the only light emanating from the candle on his desk.

"I'm glad you're here. I trust nobody saw you," said the duke plainly.

"Of course not. I trust you are prepared to hold up your end of the bargain?" asked the leader, shrouded in shadows.

"Yes. By this time next week, the royal family will be dead and Arendelle will have a government more…receptive to proposals from Weselton."

The leader nodded in understanding and a devious smile showed in the darkness. The pair shook hands wickedly as the first storm clouds thundered in the distance, their echoes carrying out across the waves and back to Arendelle.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Thank god this is finally picking up. Setting things up is always exhausting, but it makes it worth it once the action starts coming. Remember to review!  
**


	8. Chapter 8

"It is generally understood that a party hardly ever goes the way it is planned or intended." – John Steinbeck

* * *

 _I can't believe I'm doing this_ , thought Fredrik as he walked along the streets toward the castle.

He'd never felt more uncomfortable in his life as he approached the castle, lit up like a Christmas tree for the royal ball. The streets surrounding were filled with jubilant people enjoying the festivities, drinking, laughing, singing, all delirious in their own excitement. Jørgen and the other dragoons were probably heading to _La Iruña_ , while Fredrik walked stiffly up to the castle gates clad in his ceremonial uniform, the only thing he owned that was passable for something so formal. The cast iron gates had been thrown open and Fredrik advanced into the courtyard where the carriages of the wealthy guests were being unloaded in front of the massive wooden doors of the castle, manned by overdressed servants and guards.

Fredrik walked up, but was cut off by a finely dressed couple, consisting of a middle-aged man and a girl who looked about Fredrik's age. Both were clad in expensive garments and wore jewels that glittered in the light emanating from the castle.

 _Obviously nobles_ , Fredrik thought.

If the clothes weren't obvious enough, he could tell just by the way they carried themselves, possessing that air of unearned superiority. Anger flickered to life in Fredrik as the man cast a contemptuous backward glance at him, a look of disgust on his face. They flashed their invitations and were welcomed inside by the servant, who bowed courteously.

"And how may I help you, sir?" asked the servant, skeptically observing the young soldier before him.

"I'm here for the ball," Fredrik said, producing his invitation.

The servant took it and observed it closely, glancing at Fredrik suspiciously every few seconds.

"Alright," said the servant, apparently satisfied, "Welcome to the ball, Colonel. Please enjoy yourself."

The guards swung the door open and Fredrik stepped inside. Servants beckoned him onward towards the ballroom, through the lavish halls of the castle, filled with ornate furniture, priceless relics and portraits of leaders from centuries of Arendelle's history. Fredrik could hear the music and haughty laughter as he walked down the hall to the ballroom, a warm glow coming from the open doorway.

Fredrik felt like a fish out of water the second he stepped in the ballroom. He was completely surrounded by a sea of nobles, clad in garments and jewels Fredrik could never afford even if he worked for a hundred lifetimes. The only open areas were the dance floor, where people waltzed gracefully, the row of refreshments along the far wall and the throne area, which was curiously vacant. He could feel the scornful eyes of the aristocrats on him and he could feel the bitterness rising in him like bile, knowing he could do nothing about it.

Fredrik navigated his way through the crowd over to the refreshment tables, where he mercifully located some champagne. He promptly tossed the drink back, feeling the fizz of the bubbles as they tickled his throat. The music was nice. He had to concede that. The musicians played with clinical precision as the notes rose and fell above all the conversation and laughter in the ballroom.

"Dispose of this for me, would you?"

Fredrik turned to see a portly old man with grey muttonchops and a luxurious blue suit holding an empty glass out towards him.

"Excuse me?" Fredrik asked, meeting the man's pompous gaze.

"I said dispose of this for me," answered the man, a hint of aggravation seeping into his voice.

"I'm not a servant here. You can dispose of your own glass."

"If you're not a servant then what're you doing here? I can tell just by looking at you that you're commoner. You here to steal from the castle?"

Fredrik was livid. He could barely suppress the urge to punch the man in the face and fought to keep his voice even.

"No, I'm not here to steal anything and I was invited by the princess, not that I owe a fat old slob like you any explanation."

The old man's eyes widened at this and his wrinkled features contorted themselves into a look of outrage.

"How dare you speak to me in such a manner, knave! I am of noble birth while you are nothing but a filthy peasant! I don't know what the princess was thinking, but I do know your kind doesn't belong here!"

"If you'd like to remove me, you're welcome to try," Fredrik answered, taking a step towards the old man, who was forced to look up at the imposing figure standing over him.

Anger was etched on the man's face along with a bit of fear, knowing he'd be completely outmatched in a fight with the young soldier. With one last sneer, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, some of whom had watched the altercation with mild curiosity. Fredrik ignored them and drank another glass of champagne, hoping to dull some of the biting words the old man had stung him with. He could hear the whispers behind him, but decided to ignore it.

 _Christ, this is going exactly how I imagined_ , thought Fredrik morosely. _All I need now is for my father to show up._

"They can be such pricks can't they?" asked a friendly voice.

Fredrik turned to see a young nobleman standing beside him, an amused look on his sun-tanned face.

"They certainly can," Fredrik answered.

"Makes you wonder where they got all that ego. Back home, most of the nobles' accomplishments are limited to eating, drinking and taking up space."

Fredrik chuckled. "You sure you should be slandering your own kind?"

"They aren't my kind. I actually do something for my kingdom. I put the title of count to some actual use."

"Count?"

"Yes. Count Roman Montressor of Capri, at your service," he said, giving a slight bow.

Fredrik raised his eyebrows at the gesture. He never expected anybody, except maybe Princess Anna, to give him the time of day during the royal ball, yet here was this man bowing to him.

"I'm Fredrik Amundsen. It's a pleasure to meet you. Y'know, I was on a ship that stopped in Capri once during my time abroad."

"Ah, I trust you enjoyed it. With respect to Arendelle, I don't think there's a beach anywhere on earth as fine as those in Capri," said the count, smiling warmly at the memory of the beautiful Mediterranean shore.

"Capri's certainly a nice spot for a vacation. So, what brings you to Arendelle, Count Montressor?" Fredrik asked.

"Diplomacy and trade. His majesty, King Baldwin, has entrusted me with the task of increasing trade between our respective kingdoms. With her majesty, Queen Elsa, finally opening Arendelle up to foreign nations, it was the perfect time."

Fredrik nodded. "Makes sense. I try to keep my nose out of politics."

"It can certainly be a messy business. Speaking of which, do you know exactly what happened this summer? During the coronation, I mean. I've only heard second-hand accounts," said Count Montressor.

"I'm afraid not. I was abroad when whatever that was happened."

Count Montressor nodded, but seemed a bit disappointed at the answer.

"You served abroad?" asked the count after a moment.

"Yeah, I served in Africa," Fredrik answered.

"Africa?! That's quite a journey. What were you doing there?"

"Exploration mostly."

Fredrik didn't like where this conversation was going.

"That all? You must've encountered some pretty crazy stuff down there," pressed the count.

"Well, I…uh-

"Colonel Amundsen?" interjected a third voice.

The pair turned to see Kai looking at them expectantly.

"Yes?" answered Fredrik.

"Her highness, Princess Anna, has requested to see you."

* * *

"What's taking Kai so long?" asked Anna, pacing the private parlor anxiously.

"He's searching for one guy in a giant party. It'll probably take a while," Kristoff said casually.

"He can't be that hard to find. Aside from you, I think he's the only person here who's not an aristocrat."

"He may not have shown up."

"What? Why wouldn't he?"

"I think you already answered that. That whole aristocrat thing can be intimidating."

"Well it didn't stop you!"

"That's only because I have something worth braving all the trouble for."

Anna blushed at that. Somehow, Kristoff always found a way to make her feel special, like there was nobody else in the world except for the two of them. She embraced the burly man in a hug, which he gladly returned. Their eyes met and Anna was about to say something when a knock at the door scattered her thoughts.

"Come in," she said.

Kai opened the door and beckoned Fredrik into the room, who stood awkwardly, his dark brown eyes flickering between Anna and Kristoff.

"Wow, you're a lot younger than I thought," Anna said.

"Um…sorry?" guessed Fredrik.

"Oh no! I didn't mean anything by it. It's just Kristoff said you were a colonel and I thought they were all old, not that there's anything wrong with most colonels being old. I jus-

"Anna, you're rambling again," chuckled Kristoff.

"I am not! I just wanted to say thank you, Colonel. Thank you for helping Kristoff out of a jam."

"It was an honor, your majesty, and please call me Fredrik. When I hear colonel, I look over my shoulder for my commanding officer," Fredrik said with a laugh.

"It's good to have you here, Fredrik. Kristoff," said Anna, nudging her boyfriend.

"What?" he asked.

 _Thank him_ , she mouthed.

"I thanked him when he first helped me out," said Kristoff.

"It's true," interjected Fredrik, slightly amused.

"Well, would it kill ya to do it again? He did save your life after all."

"I was not going to die, but thank you again, Fredrik. You really helped me out," said Kristoff warmly.

"Your welcome…again," Fredrik said graciously, "It's not like I could just leave the ice master of Arendelle high and dry, anyway."

"Have you been enjoying the party?" asked Anna.

"Yeah, it's been nice," lied Fredrik.

"How've Arendelle's finest citizens treated you?" asked Kristoff, already knowing the answer himself.

"They've been fine," lied Fredrik again.

"They're kinda terrible aren't they?" laughed Kristoff.

"Yeah…they kinda are. No offense, your highness," Fredrik said, hoping he hadn't just put his foot in his mouth.

"None taken. I've got a pretty good idea of how those guys operate," Anna said. "Elsa isn't too fond of them either, despite being queen."

"Where is Elsa anyway?" asked Kristoff.

* * *

Elsa sat out on the balcony of her bedroom, watching the festival in the town far below. Streaking, bright fireworks shot up into the night sky regularly before exploding like spiders across the stars, the colorful remnants fizzing out and falling back towards the earth where the people celebrated another fruitful year. A cup of her favorite tea sat on the small table beside her chair. Her hand shook violently as she lifted it to her lips.

Despite her increased control, Elsa couldn't shake the feeling that something would go wrong, like it always seemed to.

 _It certainly went wrong at the coronation_ , she thought nervously. _Who's to say there won't be a repeat of that episode._

Adding to the stress was the repetition of the dream; the awful dream in which she froze everybody. The frozen, lifeless eyes of all those she cared for had haunted her sleep the past few nights, insidiously reaching into her mind and finding her doubts. Could she maintain completely control or could something set her off? The rational side of her said that she'd be fine; that Anna had shown how love could thaw anything, even a frozen heart. Her less rational side was anxious and, although Elsa wasn't exceptionally superstitious, the dream seemed like a bad omen.

She didn't have long. Soon somebody would come and tell her it was time to go to the ball. If she wasn't queen and if it wouldn't hurt Anna, she'd probably skip it. Alas, that wasn't an option.

Then she heard a rhythmic knock on the door of her room. "Elsa! Are you ready?" asked a friendly voice the queen immediately identified as her sister.

"Almost," answered the queen.

There was a nervous pause.

"Well…can I come in?" Anna asked.

Elsa sighed and left the balcony. She opened the door to see Anna, clad in a beautiful orange dress and clearly excited about the ball.

 _Must be nice_ , Elsa thought.

"You look beautiful," commented Anna as she stepped inside.

"So do you," Elsa returned, her voice obviously not infected with the same excitement as her little sister's.

"Elsa, what's wrong?" Anna asked, picking up on her sister's unease.

"Nothing really."

"Elsa," Anna pressed, her tone of voice almost motherly.

Elsa sighed again. "I guess I'm just a little nervous."

"Why? You've been in complete control for months. What could go wrong?"

"I know. I know. I've just been having these dreams about the ball lately."

"What kind of dreams?"

"The kind where I lose control and accidentally freeze everybody."

Anna paused for a moment, chewing her lip in thought. It hurt her to see Elsa still struggling with her fears, especially after everything they'd been through during the summer.

"Elsa, that's not gonna happen. Everything will be fine. Hell, you might even enjoy yourself," Anna said.

Elsa thought about chiding Anna for her language, but decided to let it go, focusing on the issue at hand. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I have faith in you," Anna said as if it was the most obvious fact in the world.

Elsa couldn't suppress the smile that spread across her face at that statement or the feeling of overwhelming love that she had for her sister. Her sister, who she'd shut out and accidentally frozen, had faith in her. For the first time that day, the awful images of frozen faces contorted in agony vanished from Elsa's mind. For the first time that day, she felt peace.

"Okay. Let's go," Elsa said, standing up with the regal grace of the finest monarch and walking out of the room with Anna right behind her, giving her the necessary push as always.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Ah good times! Too bad the Duke of Weselton couldn't come to show off his killer dance moves, but he's not really welcome in Arendelle anymore. All reviews are welcome. They are the lifeblood of the story. See everyone in chapter 9.  
**


	9. Chapter 9

"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken." – Fyodor Dostoyevsky

* * *

Elsa stood behind the curtain with Anna, waiting for Kai to announce them. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, knowing she'd be expected to say something as queen. Anna fidgeted excitedly beside her, clearly eager to get into the thick of all the fun.

"Where's Kristoff?" Elsa asked quietly, attempting to distract herself.

"Out in the crowd somewhere. I'm sure he'll turn up," Anna answered.

"I'm surprised you're not with him."

"I was with him earlier to thank Fredrik, but left to get you."

"Wait, who's Fredrik?"

Anna's eyes widened. The realization that she'd forgotten to tell Elsa about what had happened to Kristoff and the invitation she'd given to a stranger hit her like a ton of bricks. She froze, her mouth unable to articulate any kind of response. Just as Elsa looked ready to pose another question, the trumpets went off, silencing the party and her sister.

"Her majesty, Queen Elsa of Arendelle!" announced Kai.

Elsa walked out gracefully to applause from the crowd as Anna breathed a sigh of relief, her mind instantly trying to think of a way to explain the situation to Elsa without drawing her ire.

"Her highness, Princess Anna of Arendelle!" continued Kai.

Anna scurried out and stood nervously beside Elsa but not too close, consciously trying to stay just far enough away to prevent Elsa from being able to whisper to her. She was still thinking of a sufficient explanation when Elsa began her speech.

"First of all, I would like to thank all of you for coming. It's an honor to host so many of our finest citizens and a pleasure to celebrate another successful harvest with you. I know the past year has been…difficult, but I personally have never felt better about our future. Please enjoy the festivities tonight. Long live Arendelle."

"Long live Arendelle!" echoed the crowd as the music started up again.

The party continued as if it had never stopped. People laughed, danced and drank while Elsa watched from her throne. Anna drifted a little bit behind her sister's line of sight, hoping to avoid the topic of the guest she hadn't exactly gotten clearance to invite. Fortunately for the princess, a long line of nobles organized themselves, eager to thank the queen personally.

An endless wave of half-hearted flatteries and forced smiles passed by the queen. There wasn't much sincerity in anything the aristocrats said, rather it was simply a matter of jockeying for position by cozying up to her. Her senses dulled. Her body moved mechanically through numerous empty greetings.

She snapped back into focus as she saw Count Montressor bow before her, flashing his pearly white grin.

"I want to thank you again for your gracious invitation, your majesty. Capri has some fine festivals, but this whole display has been most impressive," he said smoothly.

Elsa forced a smile onto her face as she tried to read the man, with no luck. She just couldn't tell if his friendliness and charm were genuine or if he was after something else, like every other guest.

"Thank you, Count. The ball and festival have gone wonderfully and I'm glad you were able to enjoy yourself," Elsa answered cordially.

"It has been superb, your majesty. As far as negotiation trips go, this one has been my favorite. If all nations were as hospitable as Arendelle, the world would be a much more peaceful place," drawled the count, his hazel eyes meeting Elsa's gaze, "Oh, but enough about business and politics. They're such dry matters and this is a celebration after all. I don't suppose I could persuade her majesty to join me in a dance?"

 _Okay, now I'm really suspicious_ , thought Elsa. _God, I wish I could read minds._

Was Montressor just being nice or was he trying to get close for a specific purpose? His flattery, good looks and spurious charm were all eerily similar to Hans the night of her coronation.

 _Wait, is that what he's after? Is he trying to take over or am I just reading way too much into this?_ Elsa thought, so lost in her analyzation that she didn't answer Count Montressor's question.

"Is that a no or a yes, your majesty?" he asked.

Elsa quickly refocused. "Forgive me, I was thinking… and I'm afraid I don't dance."

"Are you sure? Not to be arrogant, but I can be quite the enjoyable partner," said the count, a playful look on his handsome face.

Elsa laughed a bit at his cockiness. "I'm sure you can be, but my answer stands. You might want to see if my sister wa-

Elsa motioned in Anna's direction only to find she had vanished. She scanned the crowd and quickly spotted her sister enjoying a clumsy dance with Kristoff. Both were completely oblivious to the annoyed looks thrown in their direction, their gazes completely locked on each other in such a way that brought a smile to Elsa's face. The count followed her eyes and saw what she was looking at.

"I see the princess is occupied. Who is that gentleman?" asked the count.

"Kristoff, her boyfriend," answered Elsa.

"Ah, young love is such a beautiful thing. I trust he treats the princess right?"

"Yes, he does. Kristoff is one of the finest men I know."

"How sweet," said the count, "Well your majesty, thank you again for the invitation and please send for me if you change your mind about that dance."

Count Montressor bowed again before disappearing into the crowd, leaving Elsa to try and decipher everything about him. Aside from the ball, the visitor from Capri had been on her mind more than anything else for the past week. She couldn't tell if what she was feeling was paranoia or completely justified concern.

 _I'll have to ask Anna what she thinks after the party_ , thought Elsa, her eyes drifting towards her sister, still dancing with Kristoff. The way they looked at each other, locked in a loving embrace, stirred something inside Elsa. It was like there was nobody else in the ballroom and they were enjoying a romantic dance in private. It wasn't quite jealousy that Elsa felt. She could never be jealous of Anna and wish she wasn't happy. Rather, it was a yearning, hidden beneath her calm, regal demeanor.

* * *

Fredrik hung around the outskirts of the crowd, his mood better than it was when he'd arrived. The aristocrats had been what he'd expected, but the princess was surprisingly pleasant. He could see her laughing with Kristoff over by one of the food tables, looking like she'd just cracked a joke. Her complete lack of formality and pretension were a breath of fresh air for the soldier. Her thank you had been sincere, not just one of obligation. He'd considered switching from champagne to brandy, but decided to remain mostly sober. He didn't want to give the aristocrats the satisfaction of seeing him act like a drunken buffoon.

As he stood casually near the table of sparkling, bubbling refreshments, he saw Count Montressor walk out of the crowd and take a glass of Amontillado wine, which he tossed back rapidly. Fredrik strolled over as he picked up another one.

"Count Montressor, have you been enjoying yourself?" Fredrik asked.

The count made a face, before answering. "Oh yeah, I'm having a fine time. A superb time actually."

"Doesn't sound like it. What is it? Troubles with women?"

The count chuckled. "I suppose you could say that. Funny, I never had much trouble back in Capri. Members of the fairer sex flocked to me like bees to flowers. I clearly underestimated the apprehensions of the women of Arendelle."

"Or overestimated your own attractiveness," Fredrik said with a sly smile.

"Oh, I don't think that's possible, my friend," laughed the count, "I'll just have to be persistent. If I've learned anything from all my time at sea, it's that you rarely catch a prize fish on the first cast. In the meantime, I'm sure I can find some young woman here who's married to an inappropriately older man to be my dancing partner for the evening."

At this, the count turned and headed back into the crowd, barely hearing Fredrik wish him luck on his "fishing." Leaning back against one of the pillars, Fredrik had to admit Count Montressor was a fun guy, especially for a noble. He reminded him a bit of Jørgen, albeit much more sophisticated. Then Fredrik saw the face of his second least favorite person mingling in the crowd: General Mireau. The old man was surrounded by a group of other aristocrats, all taking turns exchanging haughty glances and agreeing with each other. The General's beady ferret eyes wandered occasionally, scanning the room dutifully. Fredrik casually slipped behind the pillar, not exactly eager to be spotted in uniform by the despised general. His brown eyes searched for an escape route and found it in an open door off to the side that nobody seemed to notice. Fredrik crept through and out into a long, empty hallway with dozens of closed doors on either side, all of which would make a fine spot to wait out the remainder of the ball.

* * *

Elsa couldn't believe she'd been so concerned about the ball. As she sat on her throne, she was actually becoming a little bit bored. Anna and Kristoff were no longer dancing, but Elsa couldn't determine their location in the large crowd.

 _Or perhaps they aren't in the crowd. What if they're…_

Elsa flushed a little bit at the thought. She really hoped Anna and Kristoff hadn't progressed that far in their relationship. The connection they shared was genuine, but Elsa also knew Anna tended to rush into serious things…like accepting a marriage proposal from a man she knew for only a few hours. Elsa rubbed her temples at the memory, trying not to think less of her sister for doing something so stupid.

 _In a way it was my fault. After shutting her out for years and losing our parents, it makes sense she'd be looking for love from somebody. Hans just capitalized on that,_ Elsa thought.

"Are you alright, your majesty. Headache?" asked Kai from beside the throne, noticing the queen rubbing her temples.

"No, Kai. I'm fine," she answered, "Actually, I think I have to check something. I'll be back in a little bit."

Elsa exited the ballroom through the royal entrance concealed behind the gaudy orange curtains. She slipped back through the maze of hallways to Anna's room, which was fortunately empty. It boosted Elsa's hope that Anna wasn't doing anything impetuous, but she continued walking through the halls. Many of the doors were locked, having not been in use since the castle had a larger staff. Elsa passed the portrait of her parents, their regal forms rendered perfectly in the oil painting. The black shroud had been removed long ago, but Elsa still felt a twinge of sadness at the sight. She supposed she always would. Still, it was a good reminder of what was important and how it could all be taken away so suddenly. With a new sense of purpose, Elsa continued her search, hoping Anna was just somewhere back in the ballroom. She didn't want to be Anna's mother, but she still felt protective as her older sister.

Elsa turned a corner and headed down the last hallway back to the ballroom.

 _If Anna isn't in one of these, then everything is fine_ , Elsa hopefully thought as she made her way down the hall.

It seemed like every door she passed was locked up tight and Elsa knew Anna didn't have the key to any of these. Only she and the servants did. Then she froze. One of the doors was open the tiniest bit.

 _Oh god,_ thought Elsa, her mind conjuring up the most embarrassing scenarios imaginable as she reached for the handle.

Elsa steeled herself and turned the handle. She willed herself to open the door and looked inside; darkness there and nothing more. It was one of dozens of guest rooms throughout the castle and it looked completely undisturbed. Then she noticed something. The door to the balcony was slightly open, just like the door to the room. Elsa crept forward and opened the balcony door all the way.

"Hey! Find your own hiding spot!" barked Fredrik as he heard the balcony door open behind him. He'd come out there to avoid Mireau and the other aristocrats and now one had somehow found him. He spun around to face the intruder but was shocked by the sight of Queen Elsa.

"Your majesty! Please forgive me. I-I thought you were somebody else," stammered Fredrik, trying to remove his foot from his mouth.

"It's alright. I was just looking for my sister," answered Elsa mildly, observing the young officer before her. He looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place him.

Fredrik, however, remembered the queen, who looked more beautiful than ever. Her porcelain skin was luminous in the moonlight, while her icy blue eyes shimmered along with the dress that Fredrik speculated might actually be made of ice itself. Her platinum blonde hair was in its signature braid and the same immaculate crown rested atop her head.

Fredrik snapped out of his haze, remembering he was in the presence of his nation's leader. "I think I saw your sister back in the ballroom, your majesty."

Elsa breathed a sigh of relief, glad she wouldn't have to deal with such an unbelievably awkward situation as interrupting an intimate moment between Anna and Kristoff.

"You look relieved," commented Fredrik, smiling warmly.

"I am. I just wanted to make sure Anna wasn't doing anything rash," Elsa said.

"That's kind of you."

 _No shit, Fredrik_ , he thought, internally chiding himself. He hadn't felt this stupid since he was a teenager.

Elsa's piercing blue eyes scanned Fredrik's face as if it was a puzzle. "You look familiar. What's your name?"

"Fredrik Amundsen. We met some time ago at one of your meetings with General Broulard."

The memories came flooding back. Elsa suddenly recalled her meeting with the handsome colonel the soldiers referred to as "the Lion." The same man who winced when Broulard bragged about his war exploits and hid pain behind a fake smile.

"Forgive me, colonel. I remember now. That was in August, right?"

"Indeed it was. I remember you putting General Mireau in his place most of all," chuckled Fredrik. He wished she wouldn't refer to him as colonel, but knew it certainly wasn't his place to tell her what to do.

Elsa remembered the incident, including Mireau's crazy plan to attack Weselton. "He had it coming. I can't say I was happy to see him here tonight."

Fredrik laughed. "Why do you think I'm out here?"

Elsa smiled and then remembered what Anna had said about thanking a man named Fredrik.

"My sister invited you, right?"

"She did. I uh…helped out Kristoff and she wanted to thank me. She couldn't have been more gracious about the whole thing," answered Fredrik, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Well, I hope you've enjoyed the ball…at least before Mireau showed up."

"Have you? Enjoyed it, I mean," asked Fredrik.

The question took Elsa back. His expression looked completely sincere, like he wasn't fishing for information for any purpose. He just simply wanted to know if she'd enjoyed herself.

"I suppose I have. It was more for everyone else anyways. Anna actually did a lot of the planning. She's really in her element at things like this," Elsa said. She didn't really know why she was telling Fredrik all this, but he seemed interested and it was nice to talk to somebody who didn't have anything up their sleeve.

"It looked like she was having fun last I saw. She and Kristoff were quite a sight on the dance floor," chuckled Fredrik.

"Were you any better, colonel?" Elsa asked with a teasing smirk.

Fredrik shook his head. "Basic training never covered ballroom dancing so I chose not to embarrass myself. What about you, your majesty?"

"I…don't dance," answered Elsa evasively.

"Is it because you don't want to?" Fredrik asked.

Elsa fidgeted, a little uncomfortable talking about her apprehensions. "It's not that I don't want to, but I never really learned and I'd rather not make a spectacle of myself trying to. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to deter suitors."

"Who can blame them," said Fredrik without thinking. Elsa's azure eyes widened and a blush crept onto her flawless cheeks.

 _Goddamn it, Fredrik_ , he thought as his cheeks heated up.

"I'm sorry! T-that was inappropriate. I uh…just meant that you are beautiful, b-but not that I was making any sort of advance! I simply-

"It's alright," said Elsa, still blushing from the comment and cutting off Fredrik's stammering, "and thank you."

Fredrik chuckled nervously and measured his next words carefully. "I should be thanking you, your majesty. For standing up to Mireau for us, I mean. I'm not blind. I know a lot of the nobles and higher-ups don't care about the enlisted men. I know they don't lose any sleep over whether or not a bunch of commoners will live to see their families again and that's why I have tremendous respect for you. I can see you care and I know you'd never send us into battle unless it was absolutely necessary. Fate chose well when it made you queen."

If Elsa had been surprised before, that last statement floored her. The sincerity was obvious, but she couldn't understand how anyone could have such a high opinion of her, especially after all the trouble her powers had caused. For the first time that night, Elsa noticed frost creeping onto her hands.

"How can you say 'fate chose well' when I still have these powers?" asked Elsa as she looked into a tiny blizzard in the palm of her hand, "They're dangerous. How come you aren't afraid?"

"I suppose because I've faced far more frightening things…and I don't think they're dangerous. I actually think they're quite amazing," answered Fredrik. Elsa read his face, looking for the slightest hint of deception or sarcasm. She found neither.

"Well, thank you again, colonel. It's been a pleasure talking to you, but I'm afraid I must get back to the ball," said Elsa. She knew she had to go back. It was her duty as queen, but she couldn't deny that deep down she'd rather keep talking to this young officer…and that fact made her nervous.

"I understand, your majesty. It's an honor to have been in your company," Fredrik said respectfully, ignoring the voice in him that urged her to stay.

Elsa left as quietly as she'd come and Fredrik was alone again. He leaned over the balcony and watched the stars again. Suddenly, attending the ball didn't seem like the waste of time it had been a few hours ago.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Finally those two had an actual conversation! Their different social castes make it tricky to set up and still seem believable but I'd like to think this worked. Special shout out to ScarletAvenger, Shawn Raven and Waguneru for excellent feedback. See y'all in Chapter 10.  
**


	10. Chapter 10

"Why do old men wake so early? Is it to have one longer day?" – Ernest Hemingway

* * *

The sun was just cresting the horizon as Mathias Dahl strolled down towards Arendelle's waterfront, his numerous nets strewn over his broad shoulders. His tussled hair and beard were flecked with grey, a sign of his age that seemed misplaced on his still strong frame. His small fishing boat was still tied up right where he'd left it. Mathias quickly loaded up his gear and shoved off into the harbor, still misty in the early morning.

The rising sun beckoned him east across the dark harbor, which was still except for the small shifts of the waves. Few fishermen were up this early, but Mathias had always believed in seizing the moment; in thriving on others' complacency. Mornings like these reminded him of his son and the countless hours they'd spent together hauling in fish – before Lucas had joined the army. Mathias supported his son, but couldn't help but miss him. The boat always felt empty without him.

Mathias sailed out beyond the harbor and began dragging his nets. Fishing wouldn't be good too much longer. Once winter set in, the fish would be subdued or worse the harbor might freeze as it had during the worst winters.

 _Or maybe the queen will lose control again_ , thought Mathias glumly. It seemed like the nobles always behaved recklessly and left people like him to pick up the pieces. Nobody cared when he'd nearly lost his house after the summer incident, which froze thousands of fish. Nobody cared that the livelihoods of he and all the other fisherman were suddenly in jeopardy. If it hadn't been for Lucas coming out with him whenever he had leave to haul extra fish in, Mathias suspected his family wouldn't have made it. Many others didn't.

He wasn't too pleased about what he'd heard last night either. While he was trying to weave new nets in preparation for a real day's work in the morning, the nobles were all wallowing in their excess, stumbling around the castle of their mutant queen in a drunken stupor. What did they need a festival for? Their whole life was a festival, months of a year relaxation interrupted only by the occasional party. The only people who actually needed holidays were the ones who were tired, who worked for their bread instead of stealing it and claiming it as their birthright. He tried to shake the thoughts away and focus on his fishing. Brooding wouldn't put food on the table much less change the way things are.

Mathias pulled in a net and smiled at the sight of numerous wriggling, silver fish tangled up in it. A breeze blew in from the open sea, carrying tinges of salt and coolness with it. Mathias dragged his nets successfully again and again, the rickety boat soon filled with gasping herrings, their dark unintelligent eyes staring back at the burly fisherman. Mathias dragged his nets again, wetting his cracked lips as his eyes flickered out to the horizon. The sun had risen up a bit and the morning haze was carried away by the wind, allowing Mathias a clear view out to sea. He gave a cursory glance out to sea, until something gave him pause. Far out, just cresting the horizon, was a fleet of dark ships streaming towards Arendelle. Mathias shaded his eyes and squinted, just able to make out the flag of Weselton flying from the ships' masts.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I know. I'm a terrible person. A week of waiting for a short teaser chapter, but I couldn't resist. I hope you guys aren't too pissed and I'll see y'all in chapter 11.**


	11. Chapter 11

"The die is cast." – Julius Caesar

* * *

Fredrik slept soundly the night after the festival, his usual difficult dreams curiously absent. Coming home, he'd felt the same peace he'd felt on his afternoon rides. The ghosts of his past vanished and he felt different. He felt like somebody clean, normal, unmarred by the misdeeds of others and his own. He felt like there was more out there for him than the endless cycle of violence that consumed so many lives and would eventually consume his own if he wasn't careful.

His sleep was dreamless and he lay unmoving, almost like a dead man, only to be resurrected by a sound he'd hoped to never hear on Arendelle's soil: the clang of the alarm bell. Fredrik's brown eyes flew open as its sharp notes murdered the morning serenity and invited chaos. Fredrik threw his blankets off his small bed and hurriedly pulled his pants and boots on, running out of his quarters shirtless and into the warm sunlight. All around him soldiers ran frantically, many half-dressed, unshaven and wild with a combination of excitement and fear. Fredrik spotted Private Dahl among the insanity and hurriedly seized him by the shoulders.

"Lucas! What's going on!" Fredrik demanded, unaware he sounded a little bit crazy.

"C-Colonel! I mean Fredrik. Uh…I'm not quite sure! All I know is that we may be under attack!" stuttered the Lucas.

 _Jesus_ , Fredrik thought, one of his worst fears suddenly seeming all too real. _Okay, focus! You have to command your men. You gotta tell them what to do. If you panic, they'll panic so keep it calm!_

"Lucas, I need you to find Captain Larsen and have him get everybody in uniform and waiting by the stables. Can you do that?" Fredrik asked, evening out his voice.

"Yes sir. I can," answered the private before running off.

Fredrik sprinted back to his quarters and pulled his combat uniform on. The peaceful night he'd enjoyed only hours ago suddenly felt like a distant memory.

* * *

Elsa dashed through the hallways of the castle to an emergency meeting with her military commanders. Ever since Weselton's ships had been spotted heading towards Arendelle that morning, the nation had been in disarray. Civilians, already panicking, were fleeing into the countryside and taking whatever they could with them…regardless of whether or not it was actually theirs. The police were completely outnumbered and struggled to maintain order while the army and navy both sat back awaiting directions. Elsa hadn't even seen Anna that morning. Kai had burst in during her breakfast to alert her of the impending attack and she'd had no time to find her little sister.

 _I can't think about that now. Kai and Gerda will look after her. I've got to focus on Arendelle_ , Elsa thought as the guards opened the doors of the meeting room.

All the generals and admirals were scrunched around the large wooden table, anxiously awaiting the queen's arrival. Elsa could instantly sense their unease. Nobody talked, yet they all looked like they had a million questions to ask and another million things to say. General Broulard, who looked like he'd aged several years since Elsa had last seen him a week ago, wearily stood up.

"Your majesty, thank you for joining us," he said.

"It's no problem. I understand the situation is dire," Elsa answered.

Broulard sighed and many of the other men looked down.

"Yes…I'm afraid it is. Reports indicate that Weselton has sent its entire fleet toward us. We haven't had contact, but I think it's fairly safe to assume they're not here for diplomacy."

"What are our options?" Elsa asked, not optimistic about the answers she'd receive.

"We could send a negotiator out to meet them before they get here; see if they can be reasoned with," suggested one of the generals timidly.

"We could send our navy out to sink them before they reach our shore," said an admiral.

General Mireau let out a humorless laugh. "And what if that doesn't work? Then we'd have no naval forces left to defend Arendelle. Hell, they could pull right up to the docks and unload troops."

"I suppose you have better ideas then?" asked Broulard.

"No, I don't and I think that speaks volumes to how poorly this situation with Weselton has been handled," snapped Mireau, eyes flashing angrily.

"And what is that supposed to mean, General?" retorted Broulard.

"You know damn well what it means, you old fool! It means if we'd acted more decisively like **I** suggested, then maybe we wouldn't be backed into a corner now!"

"Your plans would've led us to disaster, you arrogant son of a bitch!"

" **ENOUGH!** " commanded Elsa, spikes of jagged ice shooting out behind her. Her azure eyes flashed between the two men, both of whom were silent at such a display. "Arguing about the past is getting us nowhere. Both of you, sit down!"

Both generals sensed that the statement wasn't a request and wisely took their seats. The room was as silent as a tomb, none of the men even daring to breathe.

"I think sending a negotiator to intercept them is a wise choice. Even if they don't see reason, we should still try and prevent bloodshed. General Broulard, if we maintain naval defenses, where do you think Weselton will try to land?" Elsa asked.

The old general cleared his throat and thought for a moment. "They're going to want flat ground. You can't unload troops and supplies if you're having to scale a rocky cliff, which eliminates most of the coast in this area, minus the harbor and-

"Ramberg. It's the only decent landing area for hundreds of miles," interjected General Mireau, casting a glance at Broulard that was anything but friendly.

Elsa frowned. She knew Ramberg. It was peaceful little coastal town her parents had taken her to when she was little…before her powers grew too great to control. "So that's where you think the Duke will try to land? Ramberg?"

"I can't think of anywhere else they could land, especially if we maintain defenses around the harbor. My guess is that they'll try to shell the town to draw our forces there and then land behind our lines at Ramberg," theorized Broulard, rubbing the grey stubble on his chin.

"If that happens, then we better start saluting the flag of Weselton," commented Mireau, the awful truth of his words hanging in the air long after he'd spoken them.

* * *

The negotiator left that evening on a small clipper ship, confident he could reach the Weselton fleet long before it breached the harbor. The navy was staying behind to defend the harbor, while the army began its march toward Ramberg in anticipation of an invasion. Reports came in that some of the ships had already broken rank and were heading up the coast toward the small coastal town, making the generals look like prophets.

Elsa hugged herself with shaking arms as she looked out on Arendelle from her balcony. Just yesterday the nation had been joyous, celebrating some success after so much misfortune, and now it was dead. All the civilians had fled, leaving only soldiers and the officials necessary to maintain order. The usually bustling streets were silent, not a trace of friendly conversation or cheerful music. No light flowed from raucous taverns or welcoming homes. Even the moon had hidden itself from the impending battle behind a shroud of black clouds, not a ray of its luminous light reaching the inky black harbor.

Elsa wanted to be optimistic, but couldn't. She wished just once that she could lie to herself; that she could say everything would fine; that Weselton would see reason and turn back at the last minute. But she couldn't. She'd knew the Duke and knew he wouldn't let Arendelle reject his country and get away with it.

 _Maybe I should've just let everything go. Maybe it wouldn't have come to this_ , thought Elsa sadly, knowing hundreds, if not thousands of people would lose their lives as the result of a trade dispute they had nothing to do with.

Elsa heard a dull knock at her door. She opened it to see Anna, whose usual cheerful face was marked with concern. "Hey," she said quietly, "How are you doing?"

Elsa opened the door wide and beckoned Anna inside. "Not great. It seems inevitable now."

"Maybe not. Maybe the negotiations will pan out," Anna said weakly, doubting her words.

"Why did it have to come to this? Maybe I should've just reopened trade with Weaseltown. At least then, nobody would have to die," Elsa said, taking a seat on her plush bed.

"Except you and probably everyone affiliated with you," said Anna, "You know the Duke wanted to take over. He still does. Why else would he order an invasion? Even if we'd kept trading with him, he'd never stop trying to think of a way to take you down."

"Maybe that would've been better," said Elsa quietly.

Anna's blue eyes widened. "How can you say something like that?"

"Because I don't want people to die for me or any of my mistakes. Those soldiers all have families and people who love them. People who some of them will never see again because of a stupid trade dispute. I don't want that. I don't want them to die. I don't even want Weselton's soldiers to die. I'm sure they have families to and they're just caught up in something beyond their control."

Anna was silent, unable to respond to her sister's sentiments.

"I'm not saying I want to die," continued Elsa, "But I just wish there was another way. A way that didn't end with a lot of children missing their fathers and parents missing their sons."

Anna sat down beside her sister and put an arm around her. "That's what makes you a good queen Elsa. You care about those men. Do you think the Duke cares about his? Do you think he cares if they live or die? They're just pawns to him, but they're people to you. Everybody knows you'd never sacrifice any of them unless it was the last resort."

Elsa let out a small chuckle and tried to suppress the fact that she was a bit choked up. "You're the second person to say something like that to me," she said, remembering her conversation with Fredrik the night before. Fredrik, yet another decent person thrust into battle by forces beyond his control.

"Who else told you that?" Anna asked, suddenly curious.

"Just a friend I made at the ball."

"Well, your new friend is a good judge of character. Don't worry, Elsa. We'll get through this."

* * *

Elsa woke the next morning alone. Anna had departed not long after their conversation and left her to her thoughts. She sat up in bed and stretched her arms. The morning sun was just slipping through her bedroom windows when Kai entered.

"Kai!" Elsa started, realizing she was still clad in her nightgown and quickly using the blankets to cover herself. "Can't you knock?"

Kai looked away, embarrassed. "Forgive me your majesty, but one of the crew members from the negotiator's ship just pulled into the harbor in a dingy with a very large sack he says he's been instructed to deliver to you."

"…Okay, just give me a moment to get ready," responded Elsa. Kai left and she quickly prepared herself. When you can create your own clothes, dressing up actually doesn't take very long. Once prepared, she hurried into her throne room, where Kai and the guards waited.

"Send him in," she commanded.

The doors swung open to reveal the crew member, who looked like he'd seen better days. His white uniform was streaked with dried blood. His hair was disheveled, his skin looked pallid and his eyes bulged. He struggled beneath the weight of a large sack her carried on his shoulders. He reminded Elsa of Christian from _A Pilgrim's Progress_. Finally reaching the throne, he dropped the sack on the ground, which sounded eerily similar to the sound of dropped fruit at the marketplace. He bowed woodenly and pulled open the string sealing the sack.

"Diplomacy has failed us, your majesty," said the man wearily as he dumped the sack out, the heads of the negotiator and his other men tumbling out onto the tile floor like marbles.


	12. Chapter 12

"The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his." – George S. Patton

* * *

Fredrik sat atop Odysseus on one of the many green hills overlooking Ramberg. Below him, he could see the infantry building trenches and fortifications just beyond the town, overlooking the windswept dunes and stretches of open beach. General Mireau had given orders that the cavalry patrol in the hills above the town while the infantry soldiers prepared the line of defense, which would hopefully withstand the invasion. It was a pretty spot and seemed like a mismatched location for a battle. It wasn't that way in Africa, where the harsh climate fit in perfectly with harsh actions. Here it was pleasant and cool, with thick groves of trees displaying signs of autumn and soft green grass that tickled your feet if you took your shoes off. Even the usually chaotic sea looked serene, its foamy waves rhythmically lapping against the powdery white sand.

 _Christ, I wish I was here on vacation_ , mused Fredrik, imagining the good times he could've had here. He'd heard about it as a kid, but Ramberg wasn't for people like him. The small town was a getaway for the powerful, not a place for lowly coal miners.

As Fredrik watched the soldiers digging, he wondered how many of them would make it through the day. It was still early in the morning, but the fortifications had to be completed soon if they were to stand a chance. Rumor had it Weselton would show no quarter. Silently, Fredrik wondered if he'd make it or if after so much fighting this was his destiny; to fall in defense of his country, his people. Thinking about his death made him a bit sad. After Jørgen, would anybody really care? Although he had his acquaintances, he wasn't particularly close to anybody else. His father certainly wouldn't care. He had no idea who his mother was. He had no siblings, no wife and no children to remember him or carry on his legacy…whatever that was. If he fell, he'd just become a statistic; another man reduced to a forgotten name etched on an unvisited headstone in a military cemetery; A name children would point at while visiting the grave of somebody who actually had people to miss them and ask their parents "who was that," who'd curtly respond with "nobody that matters."

 _Maybe that makes me perfect for it. I can fight this way because there's nothing back there for me. I was born to be a soldier. Aside from Jørgen, who'll get over it, my death would cause no pain or weeping. I'll pass from this world more respectably than I entered,_ Fredrik thought, gusts of wind agitating his brown hair. _What if I survive, though? Then what do I do?_

Fredrik didn't exactly want to die, but couldn't see what he should do if he did. All he did now was train and drink in taverns, albeit not nearly as much as Jørgen and some of the others. What would he be doing twenty years from now? Would it be more of the same? An endless cycle of training and drinking only interrupted by sporadic warfare.

Then Fredrik's mind drifted to the gentler aspects of his life. He thought of the beautiful afternoons he rode Odysseus in the hills above the barracks. He thought of all the times Jørgen had made him laugh. He thought of the way the harbor shimmered in the sunlight as sailboats glided across its perfect surface. He thought of the way the setting sun put a golden halo around the snowcapped peaks of Arendelle's mountains. He even fleetingly thought of his conversation with Queen Elsa and how she'd been nothing but kind despite some of his gaffes.

Part of him knew it was an absurd idea, but at this point he didn't really care. The few gentle moments were calming, especially with battle looming above his head. All this fretting about death really didn't matter. It wouldn't change the outcome of the battle or his life. He would live or he would die. Arendelle would emerge victorious or be conquered. All he could do was his duty. Everything else was out of his control as always.

* * *

Elsa sat alone in her office, a large map of Arendelle spread out on her desk. Her finger traced the route to Ramberg, where the army was dug in. She hoped they could hold the line, but she knew they must be tired, having marched through the night to reach Ramberg in time. She also worried about the harbor. For once, its wide, open waters were a disadvantage. Arendelle's navy wasn't huge and the prospect of holding back Weselton's largest warships was looking more and more difficult.

If Weselton claimed the harbor or broke through the lines at Ramberg, Arendelle was finished. Elsa felt like she was suffocating under the weight of everyone's expectations. The dead, glazed eyes of the negotiators were still very present in her mind and she felt sick, knowing she'd sent them out there and gotten them killed. All they'd ever been was loyal, putting their faith in her and paying for it with their lives. Everyone, from soldiers to civilians, put their faith in her. They trusted her, their leader, to guide them through this storm. It was humbling, yet also terrifying. Elsa didn't worry about herself, so much as she worried about what would happen to her people if Weselton was victorious. Would anybody be spared or would the Duke put them all to the sword? Or would he enslave them? Elsa shook her head, trying to dispel the dark thoughts.

 _We'll be victorious. We have to_ , she firmly thought.

Once again, Elsa heard a knock at her door. It couldn't be Anna. Elsa had forced her to leave with much of the castle staff. All that remained was her, Kai and the guards. She opened the door to reveal Count Montressor waiting expectantly, his charming smile still present.

"Count? What're you doing here? All civilians have fled or been evacuated," Elsa said.

"Yes, your majesty, but I am no civilian. I am actually here to volunteer my services in defense of your nation," said the count smoothly.

"Well…that's very noble of you, but I'm afraid the army's already left."

"I was actually hoping to aid your naval forces. I've served in Capri's navy for several years and I have my own ship."

"You do?"

"Yes, _The Catfish_."

Elsa snickered at the name. " _The Catfish_? Really?"

"Don't let the name fool you, your majesty," laughed Montressor. " _The Catfish_ is one of fastest and best-armed vessels Capri has to offer. With a capable man like myself at the helm, it's a force to be reckoned with. A force that just might tip the odds in our favor."

"I don't know about that," Elsa said demurely, "It's not that I think your ship or your crew wouldn't be a help, but we're outnumbered and I'm not sure we'll be able to hold their fleet back, _Catfish_ or no _Catfish._ "

"We might just have a few secret weapons that could win the day if we use them right."

"Like what?"

"Your powers, for one."

Elsa's eyes widened at that statement. Anna had joked about her being a weapon, but she hadn't been eager to pursue it.

"What? You think I should freeze the harbor? I only did that once and it was an accident."

"I wouldn't suggest that, your majesty. If you freeze the harbor, Arendelle's navy will be stuck and those onboard the Weselton warships could just walk across the ice to shore," said Montressor, "What I would suggest is that you give them some nice, big icebergs to crash into on their way in; y'know, soften 'em up for the navy. Some might even sink before they get close enough."

Although hesitant to admit it, Elsa knew it was a good idea. It might be just what they needed, but she still wasn't sure if she could trust Montressor.

"Y'know, I've still got another trick up my sleeve. This," he said, producing a small vial of what looked like clear jelly.

"What's that?"

"Greek fire. An old Byzantine naval weapon. You can light this goop on fire and launch it onto ships. It's hard as hell to put out. It'll even burn on the surface of the water."

"What'd you trade to get it? Magic beans?" said Elsa dryly, not buying Montressor's miraculous story.

"No, we found it in barrels deep within old ruins near Capri. I don't even know how it's made, but it works," retorted Montressor. To prove his point, he scooped a little bit of the jelly out and put it in an ashtray one of the servants had left behind. He then struck a match and touched it to the jelly, which instantly caught fire. Elsa watched, transfixed as bright orange and yellow flames leapt up from the blue center of the fire.

"So what do you think, your majesty? May I join on this noble crusade to save Arendelle?" asked Count Montressor, satisfaction infecting his charming voice.

Elsa weighed her options. On one hand, she didn't know Count Montressor well and couldn't be completely certain he wasn't up to something. On the other hand, without his help, Arendelle might be destroyed and it wouldn't matter if he was up to anything or not. The Greek fire worked and he offered another ship, something they could definitely use.

"Very well, Count Montressor. Consider yourself a de-facto member of Arendelle's naval forces," said Elsa, hoping she hadn't just made a huge mistake. She quickly scribbled out a message to the office of naval command commissioning Count Montressor. "Here," she said, handing him the paper, "Present this at the naval command office to receive your orders."

He took it gratefully, the charming smile never leaving his sun-tanned face. "Thank you, your majesty, you won't regret this decision."

Elsa forced a smile. _God, I hope not_ , she thought.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Greek Fire was a real thing, used by the Byzantines to defend the city of Constantinople (now Istanbul) for thousands of years. To this day, nobody knows what exactly was in it and that's kinda what makes it awesome. Having it in Montressor's hands just makes it even more interesting. The good news is the battle happens next chapter, no more build-up or cliff-hangers. See y'all there.  
**


	13. Chapter 13

"These men were born to drill and die. Point for them the virtue of slaughter, make plain to them the excellence of killing and a field where a thousand corpses lie." – Stephen Crane

* * *

Night at Ramberg was even more peaceful than the day. The army pitched their tents in the rolling green hills just outside of the sleepy seaside town, anxiously awaiting their enemy as the stars hung overhead. They could feel the ships coming from Weselton, a seizing, sickening feeling carried in by the wind from the outskirts of the sea. Even while the men sat around their campfires or lounged in their tents or sharpened their weapons, they could feel the impending presence of their enemy, gliding across the glassy sea towards them and ready to destroy. Many tried to put it out of their minds or, at the very least, relegate it to the back of their minds. They tried to fill their minds with thoughts of home, thoughts of loved-ones, thoughts of pleasant times…but they only served to remind them of what was at stake. If they fell tomorrow, none of those things would ever be again. So the men simply sat, simultaneously wishing that the remaining hours before morning would melt away quickly and last forever.

Captain Jørgen Larsen reclined by a roaring fire nestled among the cavalry tents, calmly smoking his pipe. The horses were tied up for the night and Jørgen used his leather saddle as a pillow…a surprisingly comfortable pillow. Many of the men had retired to the quiet of their tents, writing potentially their last letters or praying. Jørgen took a deep drag from his pipe and felt the soothing smoke fill his lungs. In spite of everything, he felt calm. A nice, relaxing smoke was all he ever needed before any kind of fight, whether it was on a battlefield or in an alley behind a tavern.

He'd never been very religious, despite his mother's best efforts. Jørgen couldn't help but smile at the memories of his mother's botched attempts to instill a little spirituality in him when he was young, from a forced baptism that ended in him challenging the priest to fight to a communion where he chugged the entire goblet of wine. Going to the academy was the happiest he'd ever been. In the academy, the army and the country were worshipped. Jørgen preferred those to everything else because he at least knew they were real. He entertained no fantasies, simply content with what was in front of him…and right now a nice fire and his pipe was what was in front of him.

Jørgen smoked calmly, taking deep drags and long exhales. He crossed his dirty boots and watched the flames dancing over the blackened, crumbling logs. Across the fire, he saw Lucas Dahl, huddled with another soldier he only knew as Otto. They were huddled together, evidently engaging in some sort of serious conversation. Jørgen ignored it until he heard them mention a familiar name: Fredrik.

"I'm telling you, that man is stone cold," Otto said quietly, gossiping like an old housewife. Normally, Jørgen wouldn't pay the discussions of other soldiers any mind, but Fredrik was his best friend. Without moving or looking up, Jørgen listened even closer.

Lucas scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. The Colonel's a good guy, Otto," Lucas said, chuckling at his comrade's claims.

"He most certainly is not. You listen and you listen well. You don't want to mess with that guy. Do everything you can to stay out of his way," Otto said seriously.

Jørgen bristled at that statement, already considering flogging Otto for speaking that way about their commanding officer and his closest friend.

Lucas laughed. "You sound like you're afraid of him," he said.

"I kinda am," Otto said, "Thank god he's on our side."

Lucas paused and raised an eyebrow at his comrade, silently urging him to elaborate.

"I don't know everything about the man, but what I do know isn't pretty," Otto continued, "Haven't you heard his nickname?"

Lucas looked confused and shook his head.

"Oh, that's right. You're a private. People don't tell you shit," Otto said, face-palming himself, "Well, I'll tell ya. They call him The Lion."

"The Lion? Why the hell do they call him that?" Lucas asked again.

Jørgen knew…or at least he thought he did. He'd never asked Fredrik directly what'd happened, but the rumors had seemed reasonable, telling of Fredrik's strength in battle and skillful leadership. It was the kind of story every soldier dreams of, a story attesting to their courage and securing their place in the history of their beloved nation. Why was Otto acting like it was something dark and heinous?

 _Does he know something I don't?_ Jørgen wondered from across the fire.

"It comes from his time in Africa whe-

"Wait, the Colonel served in Africa?" Lucas interjected, cutting Otto off.

"Yeah, he did and so did I. If you'll hold the interruptions, I'll tell you all about Fredrik Amundsen and why he's the most cold-blooded son of a bitch you'll ever-

Fredrik strode into the camp, dressed in his undershirt along with his pants and riding boots, carrying a large piece of firewood over his shoulder. Otto paled considerably and never finished his statement. One look at Fredrik's clenched jaw and hardened gaze told each of the men he'd heard everything.

"I-I'll see ya tomorrow, Lucas. I need to get some sleep," Otto said nervously, shuffling away into the thick grove of tents.

Lucas, feeling the eyes of both the officers on him, made an awkward salute and disappeared to his tent, more confused than ever about what Otto had told him.

Jørgen was confused as well and watched his friend silently as he dropping the large hunk of wood onto the fire, launching embers into the cool night air. Fredrik met his friend's eye and Jørgen froze. The hardness of his gaze was long gone. Instead, his friend looked incredibly tired. He sat wearily beside Jørgen but didn't turn to look at him again, eyes fixed firmly on the dancing flames. They sat that way for several minutes and, for once, Jørgen was hesitant to speak to his friend.

"Fredrik?" he finally managed.

"I suppose you heard all that," Fredrik said flatly.

Jørgen paused before answering. "Yeah…I did," he ventured.

Fredrik didn't answer immediately, his mouth tightening into a frown as he continued to watch the campfire. The camp had fallen silent minus the sounds of the fire and the waves breaking down on the beach. Jørgen searched through the silence for the way forward, knowing he was treading into sensitive territory.

"I hate fire," Fredrik said, breaking the silence with his monotone.

 _What the hell does that mean?_ wondered Jørgen.

Who was this odd stranger in front of him? Where was his best friend?

"Fredrik…what happened in Africa?" Jørgen asked, finally forcing the words from his mouth.

Fredrik tore his gaze from the fire and looked at Jørgen with the same tired expression as before.

"Don't you already know? Isn't it the fucking story of the year around here?" Fredrik asked bitterly.

"I-I heard a general story, but…I don't think that's what it is. I think there's more. What I heard wouldn't make you react like this," Jørgen said.

Fredrik let out a long sigh. "Exactly what did you hear?"

"First time I heard it was from a sailor a few months before you got back. He said that the Discovery Corps, your unit, had engaged a hostile village near the Saint Paul River," Jørgen said.

"What else?" Fredrik asked wearily.

"He spoke pretty highly of you, talked about how you'd apparently taken down a dozen warriors single-handedly. He said you led your men to victory against overwhelming odds," Jørgen continued, now unsure of the story he'd once had faith in.

Fredrik was quiet for a moment. "Is that it?" he finally asked.

"He…he mentioned that you were now called The Lion," Jørgen finished.

Fredrik surprised Jørgen with a short, bitter laugh, completely void of any actual joy. He shook his head and turned his gaze back towards the fire.

"Only our soldiers ever called me that," Fredrik said flatly, "The locals…they had a much different name for me."

Jørgen watched Fredrik silently, feeling a few beads of sweat breaking over his forehead.

"They called me _Shetani_ ," Fredrik said, gaze still fixed on the fire, "It means demon."

Jørgen's eyes widened and he felt a very unfamiliar shiver crawl down his spine.

"Fredrik, what happened?" Jørgen said, almost pleading for an answer he began to fear.

Fredrik's face hardened into stone, expressionless and motionless. He almost reminded Jørgen of a statue…a statue that had replaced his best friend.

"I wasn't originally supposed to lead the unit," Fredrik started, "I was just a lieutenant-colonel at the time, serving under Colonel Erikson. He was our leader…but about a week after we landed in West Africa, he comes down with some tropical fever…died about two days later."

"So it was down to you," Jørgen says, anticipating the story.

"Yeah, it was down to me. I was nervous. For god's sake, I was twenty years old and yet all these men were looking to me to lead them safely through the expedition. They trusted me and I was responsible for their lives. I'd never commanded an entire unit before and, like I said, I was nervous. But one of the men, this grizzled old sergeant helped me. He gave me advice. I learned more about leading men from him than I ever learned at the academy," Fredrik said.

"You got a new best friend while you were abroad?" Jørgen asked with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

Fredrik didn't laugh at all and the smile quickly fell from Jørgen's lips.

"What was his name?" Jørgen asked.

"Novak…Sergeant Lars Novak," Fredrik answered.

"So…what happened at that village?" Jørgen pressed, steering the conversation back where it was intended.

Fredrik stared at the fire a little longer before continuing the story. "We'd taken rafts down the Saint Paul River, deeper into the jungle. One night, while we were camping on the bank, we were ambushed by a group of natives. It wasn't much of a fight really. Their weapons were crude and we made pretty quick work of them, especially with our crossbows. Later, we got word from one of our guides that they'd come from a village just downriver…and we set out to deal with the hostiles," he said.

"You attacked it," Jørgen guessed, not really seeing what Fredrik had done wrong.

"Yeah…we did. We kept it quiet at first, ditching our rafts and creeping through the jungle to reach the village. They had a few sentries out, but we snuck up behind 'em and slit their throats," Fredrik said, his voice quieter, "Eventually, one of 'em saw us and sounded the alarm. It turned into chaos after that. Warriors poured out of every hut to take us on. I don't know how many I killed. I just…I did it automatically. I just drew my sword and started swinging."

Fredrik glanced at Jørgen out of the corner of his eye. His friend nodded, urging him to continue.

"We handled the warriors pretty well. Even with their numbers, we had better weapons and better training. Eventually, the remaining warriors and villagers panicked and ran into this massive hut. It was huge. I think it served as a temple or something…," Fredrik said, trying to remember everything about the structure, "Anyways, they all ran in there. We advanced, but there was this woman, this old woman, standing in the doorway with a bow in her hands. Her arms looked like twigs and I thought there was no way she'd ever be able to pull the bowstring back, much less shoot an arrow…we all thought it was a joke."

"What'd she do?" Jørgen asked, hearing the tension in Fredrik's voice.

"Sure enough, she loaded an arrow and…," Fredrik paused, taking a deep breath and obviously suppression emotion, "She shot that arrow right through Sergeant Novak's neck…and then we shot her. We shot her with so many arrows she looked like a fuckin' porcupine. Some of the men asked me if I wanted to request the village's surrender, but I couldn't stop lookin' at Novak. I knew he was gone. It seemed like all the blood in his body had run out of that wound. It was streaked all over his uniform and pooling beneath his head. I remembered what he'd told me about his wife and his two kids and…I just lost it."

"What'd you do?" Jørgen asked, his voice almost a whisper.

"I told the men to barricade the doors of the hut and to make sure nobody got out," Fredrik finally answered, his voice trembling, "And then we lit the hut on fire."

Jørgen's jaw nearly fell off at that statement, disbelieving until he looked at his friend's face. It was true.

"It went up pretty fast. I could hear them all screaming in there, screaming for mercy, screaming for their gods. I can still hear those screams," Fredrik said, refusing to give in to the tears that threatened to spill down his face, "What was worse was the smell…this infernal smell, like overcooked pork. And I just watched. I could've stopped it at any time, but I didn't. Seeing Novak on the ground like that…I couldn't feel anything but rage towards them."

Jørgen stared ahead blankly, trying to reconcile the vision he had of his friend with this new information. Fredrik was his best friend, his brother. He trusted him completely but he never anticipated his friend sharing something like this.

"It was only when the hut was burnt to the ground and I saw all the charred corpses that I realized what I'd done. Not long after that, the nightmares started," Fredrik said tiredly, "I've never told that story to anyone, not even a priest."

"Why not?" Jørgen croaked.

"What god could forgive something like that? And why haven't I been punished for it? Instead of being executed or cursed for my sins, I've been rewarded. Why?" Fredrik asked, his voice breaking.

"I don't know…" Jørgen answered honestly.

"I understand if you hate me," Fredrik said sadly.

Jørgen shook his head. In spite of what he'd just heard, he could never hate Fredrik. They were brothers, by each other's side through thick and thin. Was he horrified? Certainly…but he knew his friend. He knew his character and he wouldn't give up on him.

"I don't hate you, Fredrik. You know that," Jørgen said sincerely.

"You should. I certainly deserve it. I feeling like I'm fucking evil," Fredrik said bitterly.

"Fredrik, are you sorry for what you've done?" Jørgen asked.

"Not a day goes by I don't regret it," Fredrik answered immediately.

"Then you're not evil. What you did was wrong, but it doesn't mean you're some monster. I know you. You're a good man," Jørgen said.

Fredrik scoffed. "Sure I am," he said with a humorless laugh.

"You are and you can still redeem yourself," Jørgen said.

"How?" Fredrik asked, desperation seeping into his voice.

"Be a hero. A real one. Tomorrow and at every opportunity after that, do the right thing. Be selfless and you'll find peace," Jørgen said.

Fredrik was shocked. Never had his friend been so wise or so empathetic in the years he'd known him. He'd always been ready with endless jokes and quips, but this Jørgen was something new. Although, he'd always suspected his friend was a lot smarter than he let on.

"I know you'll figure it out," Jørgen said, getting up and patting his friend on the shoulder before strolling away to his tent.

Fredrik sat there long afterwards, watching the fire slowly die.

* * *

"Are you sure about this your majesty? We could still have you retreat to the countryside," suggested Kai, concern coloring his voice.

Elsa stood on Gale point, on the southern side, overlooking the harbor. From her vantage point, she could see all of Arendelle, from the snowcapped mountains down to the clear blue harbor where the navy awaited the arrival of their enemies. The sun was just cresting the horizon, golden rays of sunlight spreading across the landscape as a strong breeze blew in from the sea. Not the usual refreshing one, but a strong, hard wind that bent saplings over and agitated the queen's braid.

"I'm sure, Kai. This is the only spot I can aid our troops from," answered Elsa. The guards hung back, giving the two some privacy. Kai had looked after her and Anna since they were little and his presence was a constant comfort, especially after their parents died. Throughout all the trouble she'd faced in her life, Kai was one of the few whose support never wavered.

"Forgive me for my concern, your majesty. I just don't want anything to happen to you. I-I know I'm not your father, but I still care for you."

Elsa turned and embraced the old man in a warm hug, "Thank you, Kai. You may not be my father, but you are family. I want you to know that."

Kai smiled and turned to wipe his eyes, which had turned misty at some point. Elsa faced the sea and refocused. It was time. Weselton's fleet of warships was approaching the harbor. From her vantage point, she could see Arendelle's navy striding out to meet them, the sleek hull of _The Catfish_ leading the way.

Elsa took a deep breath and channeled her powers. Around her, the wind began to blow harder, its ferocious forces knocking the guards off balance and carrying their hats away. Ice crept out from beneath the queen's feet and her palms were layered with frost. She outstretched her hands and focused. The wind raged harder, this time containing flurries of snow. From the cold harbor waters, ice began to rise. In front of the streaking warships, dozens of enormous icebergs formed. The Weselton ships swung left to right, desperately trying to navigate the frozen minefield. Many scraped their wooden hulls and damaged the sides of their guns. One poorly commanded vessel ran head on into an icy monstrosity, its hull fracturing into splinters before beginning its slow descent into the sea.

 _One down_ , thought Elsa, throwing up more ice in the paths of the remaining ships.

Dinged up but not defeated, the invaders slipped through the ice maze, eager to do battle with Arendelle's navy. The thunder of cannons resounded across the harbor, the echoes traveling all the way to the mountains. Elsa watched as the ships engaged in a deadly dance, all trying to flank each other and deliver broadside blows. Fiery cannonballs tore into wood and flesh as the ships traded shots. Another Weselton ship went down, torn open and waterlogged. Sadly, one of Arendelle's ships, _The Rachel_ , went down not long afterwards. _The Catfish_ fared the best of all the ships, nimbly avoiding volleys of fire and connecting on many of its own. Elsa directed an iceberg at one of Weselton's ships, which was better aimed than she thought. It shattered the bow of the ship, which began a quick descent into the harbor.

As the battle hung in the air, Elsa saw it. A long stream of liquid fire shot out from _The Catfish_ , instantly turning one of Weselton's remaining ships into an inferno. Without hesitating, the wily vessel weaved between numerous enemy ships, bathing them in fire as well. Elsa couldn't look away as the frantic Weselton sailors leapt overboard, many of them covered in scalding flames. Sensing victory, the remnants of Arendelle's navy poured endless volleys of fire into the staggering invaders, sinking many.

However, _The Catfish_ was in trouble. Somehow it had gotten too close to the flaming wreckage and was now catching fire itself. Flames spread from the stern of the ship and crept up the masts and into the white sails.

Elsa's eyes widened as she remembered the barrels of Greek fire that were probably on board, just waiting for a spark.

 _Jesus, it's a massive fire bomb_ , she thought. The crew of _The Catfish_ seemed to realize what was happening and turned the flaming vessel toward the last remaining Weselton frigate. The queen didn't realize what they intended until she saw the crew jumping overboard. _Holy shit, they're gonna ram it._

 _The Catfish_ crashed into the frigate with a loud crack. The fire spread like a virus onto the Weselton vessel, especially after the barrels went up. The powerful winds generated by the queen fed it, turning the wreckage into a firestorm that smoldered all the way into the sea. Two clipper ships, all that remained of Weselton's navy, quickly retreated, frantically trying to escape the carnage through the maze of icebergs. One crashed and sank on the way out. The other, the sole survivor, fled out to sea, taking the last of the invaders with it. Elsa finally relaxed, the wind dying down and the icebergs thawing. Out in the harbor, all that remained were the splintered, damaged, but victorious remnants of Arendelle's navy.

 _It's over. We won_ , Elsa thought, nearly collapsing with exhaustion. She'd never used her powers to that magnitude before and felt drained. But ever in her state she could feel the elation of victory, knowing her nation and her people were one step closer to safety. Still, losses had been incurred, possibly including the crew of _The Catfish_ , the mercenary vessel that may have won the battle.

"Your majesty! Are you alright?" Kai asked, running over to Elsa, accompanied by the guards.

"Yes Kai…I'm alright," she said, shrugging their help off as she scanned the harbor.

"God almighty…" said one of the guards absentmindedly, gaze drifting out to the carnage on the harbor, observing the damage done by the queen's power.

"Kai, I need you to send word to Ramberg. I need to know what's happening there, if they've engaged the enemy or not," Elsa said, quickly regaining her composure.

"Right away, your majesty," Kai humbly answered before hurrying off to deliver the orders.

 _This is far from over_ , Elsa thought grimly, her mind wondering what was going on down the coast.

* * *

Any moment now. It was only seconds away. Rowboats, laden with men clad in the distinctive maroon uniforms of Weselton's soldiers, were streaking towards the shore. Down in the trench, Arendelle's soldiers readied their bows and spears, hoping to cut down as many of them as they could before they landed.

Fredrik watched from the hill with all the other dragoons. He ached to be down there; to be serving Arendelle and not sitting on the sidelines. Mireau had thought differently though, relegating the dragoons to the surrounding hillside and instructing them only to provide aid as needed. It seemed fishy and Jørgen had been especially pissed, ranting about the incompetence of the ruling class for past hour and threatening to ride up to the command tent to pay Mireau a little "visit." Fredrik tried to shake it off and stay focused. He couldn't get distracted now. Mireau, Africa, _La Iruña_ and everything else had to be forgotten. His men depended on his leadership and he wouldn't fail them.

As the rowboats came within range, the archers fired. Arrows fell from the sky like raindrops, many of them finding their mark. With grim determination, the Weselton soldiers simply pitched the bodies of the comrades overboard and kept rowing under the hail of arrows. The foamy waves were stained red as the first of the boats plowed into the sandy beach. The determined soldiers scampered up the beach with the graceless energy of ants. Time and time again, they were cut down with volleys of arrows and well-thrown spears as they charged up the dunes towards their entrenched adversaries.

An endless stream of boats poured in. Many of the soldiers, anxious to break the line, jumped overboard and waded to shore rather than wait to land, pushing aside the floating corpses of their comrades. Then thunder. Hundreds of yards out, the cannons of the Weselton transports sounded. Now within range of the line, their guns began to pound the entrenched Arendelle troops. Each explosion scattered sand and shrapnel in all directions, wounding some of Weselton's soldiers but more of their enemy's.

"Oh shit. They're slipping," uttered Jørgen, watching in horror as the invaders progressed under the cover of the bombardment. "If they turn our flank, we're done." Fredrik could see it too. The bombardment slowed as the Weselton soldiers focused their efforts on the left flank, defended mostly by regiments of new recruits.

"Goddamn it. How'd they know that's where we put the rookies?" asked Jørgen, rare panic in his voice.

The recruits did a decent job holding back the invaders and Fredrik was momentarily filled with hope, until he saw the Weselton grenadiers, with their distinctive leather bomb pouches, heading up the beach toward the left flank. Only a few were cut down by arrows. The others, reaching the cover of the dunes just below the line, quickly lit the fuses of their deadly projectiles and began to lob them into the trenches. Suddenly being blown up left and right, the recruits' composure collapsed. The Weselton soldiers swarmed into the trenches as the panicked young soldiers broke rank and began to retreat. Completely exposed, Fredrik could see the rest of the line faltering, desperately trying to fend off attacks from the side and front.

"We gotta go," said Fredrik drawing his sword. The soldiers all copied their commanding officer, eager to jump into the fray. Fredrik was about to give the order, when a courier, eyes wide with panic rode up from below the green hill.

"Colonel Amundsen! General Mireau has ordered you and your men to fall back!" panted the courier.

Fredrik was incredulous. "What!?"

"The line's breaking, sir. We've got to fall back now before we all get captured," pleaded the courier.

"That's absurd! Our comrades need our help!" said Fredrik furiously before turning to Jørgen, "Are you with me?"

Jørgen smiled like a cheshire cat. "There's no one else I'd rather ride into Valhalla with, my friend."

"Please, Colonel. You ca-

"Forward!"

Fredrik waived his sword forward and spurred Odysseus. The cavalry rocketed by the stunned courier and thundered down the green hills toward the beachhead. Fredrik didn't look back to see if his men were following him. He already knew they were. He heard nothing and felt only the cool rush of the breeze on his face as he rode. His mind wandered no farther than the beach and the invaders that had to be beaten back.

The retreating soldiers slowed their pace as they saw the cavalry charging towards them, back into the battle. They blew by them like a whirlwind, kicking up unknown amounts of sand as they went. The cavalry crashed into the invaders like a furious tidal wave. Fredrik lost all concept of thought. His body knew the movements without him and responded automatically, kicking, slashing and stabbing anything in a maroon uniform from atop his loyal horse. Their push drove the invaders out of the trenches and back onto the dunes.

The recruits who'd been retreating, sensing momentum, rallied and rejoined the fight, their renewed efforts sending the forces of Weselton reeling back. Going for the jugular, the soldiers of Arendelle spilled out of the trenches to give chase, including the cavalry. In a desperate attempt to cover their men's retreat, the Weselton transports resumed firing, some shells finding their mark but others blowing their own men to pieces as they staggered across the sand.

Fredrik rode onward, demolishing anyone in his path, only to be thrown off Odysseus by the force of an exploding shell. The fall knocked the wind out of him. He shook the sand out of his eyes and looked up to see an enemy soldier advancing upon him, a furious snarl on his face and a bloody saber in his hand. Fredrik seized his sword off the beach as the man swung, just barely blocking the blow. Rising to his feet, Fredrik began an onslaught of his own. The man was bigger but also slower. Fredrik remembered his training; staying light on his feet, directing quick blows at the man's middle and staying far enough away that he couldn't use his bulk to box him in. He waited for the man to tire. The invader directed a sloppy swing toward Fredrik's head, which he ducked under before slashing his enemy across the stomach. He dodged another swing and drove his sword into the man's thigh, who grimaced in intense pain. Desperate and bleeding, the man tried one last stab toward Fredrik's chest, which hit nothing but air. Fredrik drove his sword into the man's chest, who staggered to his knees, grasping as hot blood seeped out of his mouth. Fredrik promptly slashed the man's throat open, effectively finishing him off, and kicked the corpse over like a house of cards.

Fredrik and the others kept advancing, dispatching whatever Weselton soldiers opposed them. Fredrik saw nothing but red as he cut his way through the forest of maroon uniforms. His sword moved automatically, cutting the throats and rupturing the hearts of anybody who stood their ground against him. Others followed his example. Soon, the cannons stopped firing and the completely deserted invading soldiers panicked. Some tried to surrender, but were immediately killed by their furious adversaries. A few managed to relaunch a couple rowboats and got out under a hail of arrows. Most staggered into the sea in a desperate attempt to escape, screaming for their comrades to come back. The soldiers of Arendelle, crazed with bloodlust, pursued them like ravenous wolves, letting out savage howls of _No Prisoners_ before slaughtering them where they swam.

Fredrik frantically ordered his men back, pulling them off a few fortunate enemy soldiers who were subsequently taken prisoner. Most weren't so fortunate, their corpses littering the beach and bobbing over the bloodied waves of the sea like buoys. Panting and exhausted, Fredrik paused on the beach. They'd done it. They'd held the line and saved their country when it needed them most. Fredrik winced as he felt his torso, noticing a few slash wounds on his side that he hadn't felt before.

 _They're not too bad. I'll live_ , Fredrik thought as he prodded his injuries.

Satisfied, he scanned the beach for Jørgen, momentarily terrified that his friend may have been lost in the battle. It immediately abated when spotted him bandaging the leg wound of another soldier. Jørgen looked up and met Fredrik's eye before smiling and giving him a thumbs up, which Fredrik returned. Then he noticed something moving behind Jørgen near the dunes. He squinted and could just make out one of Weselton's soldiers, obviously injured and squirming across the sand gracelessly. Fredrik was about to call out for a medic when he noticed the man straighten up and load a crossbow, which he aimed directly at Jørgen's back.

 _No_ , Fredrik thought, terror tightening around him like a python.

Without another thought, he sprinted towards his friend, desperately flying across the sand. Jørgen's back was still turned, focusing on bandaging his comrade and oblivious to the danger behind him. Fredrik didn't look at the soldier from Weselton, but knew he must've been close to firing. Jørgen turned as Fredrik put on one last frantic burst of speed and froze at the sight of the enemy soldier about to take his life.

Fredrik launched himself into the air as the bolt was released, knocking Jørgen onto the sand and immediately feeling a burning, scalding pain in his chest.

"Fredrik!" screamed Jørgen in a desperate voice he'd never heard before.

Weak, pained and sprawled out on the sand, the last thing Fredrik saw before slipping into unconsciousness was the arrow protruding from his chest and his comrades frantically rushing towards him.

Before slipping away, Fredrik felt at peace. He'd done it. He'd been selfless. He'd been the hero Jørgen had said he could be.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Whew! That was a long chapter but I hope it was worth the wait. I had a direction I wanted to take this story...but I realized it was really stupid and contrived, so I needed to do some thinking about a new direction. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It's certainly my favorite. As always, you guys are the best.  
**


	14. Chapter 14

"On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations." – Revelation 22:2

* * *

When Fredrik awoke, he could've sworn he was dead. The building he was in was too white, too pristine to be anything created on earth. He briefly wondered where the angels and harps were if this was heaven. It was only when he shifted and felt pain radiating out of his chest that he knew he was still alive.

When he spotted a nurse moving across the room, he came back to reality. He was in a hospital, a military one from the looks of it. It was then that he noticed his bed and the bandages tightly wrapped around his throbbing chest.

 _Oh right. The arrow_ , Fredrik thought.

Even with the pain, Fredrik smiled. If the arrow hit him then it didn't hit Jørgen. He saved his friend. He was the hero this time, just Jørgen said he could be.

"So the courageous colonel awakens," said a smooth voice on his right.

Fredrik looked over and was shocked by the sight of Count Roman Montressor in the bed next to his. The Count, it looked like, had seen better days. His entire torso was wrapped in bandages, along with his arms and even his hands. His face, however, was untouched and still sported the same charming smile as always.

"Montressor…" Fredrik managed, finding his voice weak thanks to his injury, "What happened?"

"We won the fucking war is what happened, my friend!" Montressor boomed, grinning triumphantly, "You should've seen those Weaseltown ships turning tail. It was glorious sight."

"What're you doing here?" Fredrik asked, confused at what a Capri nobleman was doing injured in a military hospital.

"Oh, forgive me," Montressor said dramatically, "I forgot you've been unconscious and haven't been treated to tales of my heroism yet. I, my friend, was seriously wounded defeating the naval forces of Weselton at Arendelle's harbor."

 _What? How did Montressor get involved in all this? He's a foreigner. It wasn't his fight,_ Fredrik wondered.

"I don't get it. How'd you get roped into fighting for us?" Fredrik asked. The nobles he'd known seemed like the types to avoid all possible combat and award each other medals afterward.

Montressor flashed another satisfied smile at the young colonel. "I volunteered," he answered simply.

"You volunteered to fight for us?" Fredrik asked.

The Count puffed himself up as much as humanely possible given his current position, looking incredibly proud of himself.

"I certainly did," he answered, "I even sacrificed my beloved _Catfish_ to achieve victory."

"You defeated Weselton's navy with a catfish?" Fredrik asked incredulously.

"Not a catfish. _The Catfish_ ," Montressor stressed, "My beloved ship, lost to depths of Arendelle's harbor forever. I'm telling you, my friend…you never saw such a noble ship."

Fredrik couldn't help but chuckle. Something about Montressor's ease and flair for the dramatic was refreshing, probably because most nobles were the exact opposite of him. Stiff, snobbish and cowardly.

 _At least Montressor actually has some balls_ , Fredrik thought.

"I thought captains were supposed to go down with their ships?" Fredrik asked, teasing the Capri nobleman.

Montressor simply shrugged. "And deny the world all this?" he asked, grinning and gesturing to his badly wounded body.

Fredrik rolled his eyes. "How'd that happen anyway?"

"Oh y'know…the ship caught fire and exploded. Usual stuff," Montressor said casually.

"The ship exploded? How the hell did that happen?" Fredrik asked.

"Well…I may have broken out an old Byzantine fire-weapon to combat Weselton's ships. As you may have guessed, it was a little too effective," answered the Count, lifting a bandage up to show his burns.

Fredrik winced at the sight. He'd always hated burns. He thought of the ones he'd received from his father and shuddered. He couldn't imagine his body being covered in something so terrible.

"I know, right? It's not too pretty. My crew's got it as bad or worse," the Count said, gesturing the row of men on his right, all bandaged and confined to hospital beds like their captain.

"My sympathies," Fredrik said, looking at the men. A few were awake and groaning in pain. The others were fortunately asleep…or unconscious. Fredrik wasn't sure.

Montressor just shrugged. "It'll be alright. I keep telling them that ladies love scars," quipped the irrepressible Count, drawing a few obscenities from his conscious crew members.

 _Crazy bastard_ , Fredrik thought, shaking his head.

"Well, thank you for your service. For a foreigner, I'd say you went above and beyond," Fredrik said earnestly.

The Count immediately sported his most charming smile, as he usually did whenever someone praised him. "I have to say that means a lot coming from a dedicated soldier such as yourself," said Montressor warmly, "It's an honor to be hospitalized beside you."

Fredrik couldn't help but chuckle at that. But then he paused. The Count had already laid back on his pillow and closed his eyes.

"Hey Montressor," Fredrik said.

"Call me Roman, you dolt," the Count muttered without opening his eyes.

"Fine. _Roman_ …" Fredrik said dramatically.

"Yes?" The Count answered, unable to keep from laughing a bit at how he was rubbing off on the young soldier.

"Why did you help us? It wasn't your fight," Fredrik asked. The question had been nagging him since Montressor told him how he'd been injured.

Montressor chuckled. "Would you believe I was trying to see how many ladies' beds a war hero could get into?" asked the Count.

Fredrik rolled his eyes. "Believe it or not, I actually wouldn't."

"Alright, alright," the Count relented, pausing for a moment and looking unusually thoughtful, "I guess I just saw something happening that was wrong that I knew I could do something about."

Fredrik nodded. He could appreciate that. Montressor simply did what he thought was right. Instead of sitting on the sidelines and claiming neutrality, he chose a side and quite possibly saved Arendelle.

"I'm sorry about your ship," Fredrik offered, "I no sailor, but I'm sure it's impossible not to get attached to your vessel."

Montressor nodded. "I will miss my beloved _Catfish_ ," he said, looking glum for a brief moment, "But thanks to her majesty the queen, I think I'll be alright."

"The queen?" Fredrik asked.

"Yes sir," Montress grinned triumphantly, "When her majesty contacted me, she agreed to furnish me with a new ship. She said it was the least Arendelle could do to show its gratitude."

 _A new ship? Lucky bastard_ , Fredrik thought, wondering where his reward was before another question came to him.

"Hey why'd the queen contact you anyway?" he asked.

Fredrik wasn't sure if Montressor's grin could've gotten any bigger than in that moment. "Oh, she just sent a letter to inform me I was receiving the Order of Arendelle for my actions in battle."

Fredrik's eyes widened at that.

 _The Order of Arendelle!?_ he thought.

The Order of Arendelle was the highest honor Arendelle's military could give for valor. It was seldom given, although it's not like their nation was at war very often. Fredrik could only remember hearing about a handful of recipients back when he was at the military academy.

"Wow…congratulations, Roman. That's a tremendous honor. Wear it with pride," Fredrik said, shocked that this eccentric foreigner was going to become one of his country's most decorated soldiers. To be honest, it made him a little envious.

"Well maybe you can show me how to wear it," Montressor quipped.

Fredrik's gaze snapped back to the Capri nobleman so fast you could hear his neck pop. The Count just looked on the young colonel with a knowing smile.

"What do you mean by that?" Fredrik asked.

"Oh, silly me. I knew I forgot to mention something," said Montressor, "When I was notified I would be receiving the Order of Arendelle, one also came for you…you just happened to be too unconscious to appreciate it at the time."

Fredrik's jaw dropped. "I'm receiving the Order of Arendelle?"

"Unless there's another Fredrik Amundsen hiding somewhere in this hospital, yes," Montressor answered with a chuckle, taking in the young man's stunned expression.

"I don't believe it…" Fredrik said quietly.

Montressor just laughed. "I'm certainly not surprised. From what I heard, you turned the tide at Ramberg with one ballsy cavalry charge and then took an arrow for a comrade. I don't know about Arendelle, but in Capri we consider feats like that commendable."

"He's my best friend…" Fredrik muttered.

"What?" Montressor asked.

"The man I took the arrow for. He's my best friend."

Montressor nodded in understanding before smirking again. "You sure you didn't just do it for the glory?"

"He's only asking because that's what he's always after," interjected one of Montressor's crewmen a few beds down.

"Lies and slander," Montressor quipped, before laughing along with the young colonel.

Fredrik laughed even as pain emanated from his chest. Somehow, laughing felt too good to stop, especially after all the recent death. At that moment, it was exactly what he needed.

* * *

Jørgen Larsen stood alone on the firing range near Arendelle's barracks. It'd been five days since they'd beaten back the invasion at Ramberg and the saved their country. Five days since his best friend had nearly died saving his life.

Just the thought made Jørgen feel guilty. If he'd only been paying attention, he might've seen that guy and Fredrik wouldn't have almost been killed taking an arrow for him. He wished his friend hadn't done something so reckless. He'd rather be dead than know his friend died for him.

Jørgen picked up his crossbow and continued to drill dummies with clinical precision. It didn't hurt they were dressed in salvaged Weselton uniforms. Each dummy he shot wasn't a dummy. It was the crossbow wielding cowards who'd wounded his best friend.

To say that soldier hadn't been taken prisoner would be an understatement. When Fredrik went down, Jørgen thought his best friend had been killed. The only way to explain it was that he flew into a rage. He drew his sword and descended on the Weselton soldier like a hawk. And nobody said a word as he gutted the man like a fish.

It was only when another man literally shook him and said Fredrik was still alive that he calmed down slightly. He then watched helplessly as his friend was carried to the medical tent, where doctors worked frantically to save his life. Those few hours had been the worst. All Jørgen could do was sit outside the hospital tent and wait. Every time somebody exited the tent, Jørgen cringed, convinced this was the moment they'd tell him that his best friend, his brother was dead.

When Fredrik pulled through, it felt like a miracle. Jørgen raced into the tent only to see his friend unconscious, looking pale and weak and so unlike his friend that it made his breath catch. The doctors had informed him that although Fredrik was alive, he'd lost a lot of blood and likely wouldn't wake up for a while. That was five days ago.

Jørgen had visited Fredrik in the hospital every day since then, hoping that when he got there, he'd be able to see his best friend alive and well again. So far, he'd been greeted each time by his best friend's unconscious body. He stayed anyway, sitting by his bed for as long as the nurse would allow. He owed Fredrik that much.

He tried to come during evenings when the eccentric Count Montressor was more likely to be asleep. He'd only interacted with the man once since he started visited the hospital and it was more than enough. Something about the way Montressor just seemed to wallow in the pleasures of his life bugged Jørgen, possibly because it too much like his own philosophy. He didn't like to think he had much in common with any nobles, foreign or domestic. He had to give the Count points for courage on the battlefield, though. Most of the nobles he'd encountered would've been too busy shitting themselves to fight.

 _Few people will burn down their goddamn ship fighting for a country that isn't even theirs,_ Jørgen thought.

Finally tired of firing arrows, Jørgen returned to the stables where he'd left Odysseus. He knew how much Fredrik loved his horse and figured taking care of it while he was indisposed was the least he could do, especially since the man had saved his life. Much like him, the horse had been down a little bit since the battle.

"Missing your best friend, too, huh boy?" Jørgen said as he rubbed the horse's head.

Odysseus whinnied, almost as if he was agreeing with the statement. Jørgen reached down into his satchel and produced an apple. He remembered Fredrik giving them to Odysseus before and since he'd become the creature's unofficial caretaker, he'd started to carry them around. As the horse gnawed on the juicy fruit, Jørgen heard a pair of soldiers enter the stables with their mounts. He idly listened to their conversation, something about the festivities that were being held to celebrate Arendelle's great victory and honor those who fell.

"The colonel gonna be there?" one of the men asked the other.

Jørgen's ear instantly perked up. Colonels, while not uncommon, weren't nearly as numerous as other ranks.

"I doubt it. I heard he's still stuck in the hospital," the other soldier answered.

Jørgen grumbled and returned to stroking Odysseus' mane. Nothing new. His friend was still in the hospital…assuming they were even talking about his friend.

"Yeah, apparently the poor bastard's finally awake but still pretty feeble," the soldier continued.

Jørgen's arm fell to his side.

 _An injured colonel that finally woke up in the hospital…_ he thought.

Without word, Jørgen bolted out of the stables, rushing past the confused soldiers. He'd never moved through the streets of Arendelle faster, his seldom-polished riding boots moving over the cobblestones impossibly fast. He was so excited he could hardly think and was very nearly run over by a carriage along the way. He finally reached the hospital and burst on, surprising the nurse on duty.

"Is Colonel Amundsen awake?" he asked breathlessly.

The nurse quickly got over her momentary shock at the sight of the disheveled officer. "Sir, he's not really-

"Is he awake?" Jørgen pressed.

"Yes, sir. He is," the nurse answered, eyes never leaving the frantic man.

Jørgen shot by the nurse before she could even react, racing into the recovery ward in search of his friend. He spotted him reading in his hospital bed and didn't hesitate to rush over and hug his friend.

"Good to see ya, Jørgen," Fredrik chuckled after recovering from his surprise.

"Sir, you can't be in here. The colonel is still recovering, not to mention the-

"It's alright. He's practically family," Fredrik interjected.

The nurse looked at the men skeptically for a moment. "Just call if you want him to go," she said before leaving.

"Nice staff," Jørgen said, detaching himself from the hug and admiring the nurse's retreating form, "Not bad to look at, though."

Fredrik couldn't help but laugh at that.

 _Same old Jørgen_ , he thought.

"So how've you been, my friend?' Fredrik asked.

Jørgen looked at him like he was insane. "How've I been? What about you? You're the one who almost died."

"Yeah…I've been okay. My chest hurts like a son of a bitch, but I'm managing," Fredrik said, glancing over at the other wounded soldiers in the ward, most of whom were asleep, including Count Montressor.

"I see you've met the Count," Jørgen said, catching his friend's eye.

"I actually met him before at the queen's ball. For a noble, he's actually alright," Fredrik said.

"He's certainly got courage. I'll give him that," Jørgen acknowledged, "I'm sure by now he's regaled you with tales of his heroism."

Fredrik chuckled. "Yeah, he told me that story right after I woke up. It's crazy that the Order of Arendelle's going to an eccentric foreigner."

"From what I heard, that's not the only person it's going to," Jørgen observed wryly.

"Hard to believe, I know," Fredrik said, glancing up at his friend.

"It's actually not," Jørgen said, suddenly serious, "There's nobody more deserving than you, Fredrik."

Fredrik chuckled and looked at his friend for some sign of a joke. The smile dropped from his face when he found none.

"Jørgen, that's kind of you but…"

"But what?" Jørgen asked.

"You remember what I told you, the night before the invasion," Fredrik said, "I may have done some good, but I'm far from absolved."

"Do you remember what I told you the night before the invasion?" Jørgen questioned.

Fredrik raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so."

"I told you that you're not evil. You definitely made some mistakes, but you're not evil. And most importantly, you're trying to make up for them. There's not one single deed that will fix everything, but I think you're on the right path," Jørgen said, smiling genuinely, "You did a courageous thing and you deserve the rewards from it."

Fredrik paused for a moment, taking in the truth of his friend's words before a cheeky smile spread across his face. "You're horribly sober aren't you?"

Jørgen just laughed and shrugged. "It's hard to find time for _La Iruña_ when I'm taking care of your goddamn horse."

Fredrik laughed, but couldn't help being touched by the gesture. Little things like that reminded him of why Jørgen was the closest thing he had to family.

"Y'know, I never thanked you for saving my life," Jørgen said, gaze wandering over his friend's bandages.

"You don't have to," Fredrik said, attempting to wave his friend off.

"No, I do. I really do. So thank you, Fredrik. That was above and beyond," Jørgen said with unmistakable sincerity.

Fredrik just smiled at his friend. "That's just what brothers do for one another."

Jørgen couldn't keep the smile off his face as he clasped his friend's hand again. "When you're finally set free from this infernal place, first round at _La Iruña's_ on me."

"Now that's a proper thank you," Fredrik quipped, drawing a contagious laugh out of his best friend that even the nurse could hear.

* * *

Days after the invasion had been hectic for Elsa. When she'd first heard the news from Ramberg, she'd been fearing the worst, racking her brain trying to think of contingency plans for her country. Then the wonderful news came: the invaders had been repelled and Arendelle was safe. She almost wanted to fall to her knees right there and thank whatever it was that saved her country and her people.

The following days had been more somber. The wounded men that were pulled out of the harbor joined a stream of casualties from Ramberg. The lucky ones were in the hospital recovering from their horrendous wounds. Hundreds of others, fallen in service of their country, had to be buried. The queen had already commissioned an ornate cemetery for the fallen heroes, along with a monument at Ramberg to honor their sacrifice and let the future generations of Arendelle know that their country didn't just persist through a rocky patch in its history. She wanted them to know that people of unwavering courage laid down their lives to defend and preserve it.

There was also the task of rebuilding the military and the inevitable diplomatic chaos that came out of such an invasion. General Broulard had informed the queen that it would take several months to get the army and navy back into fighting shape after sustaining such losses, but also that a victory such as theirs should deter any aggressors in the meantime. Weselton still wasn't responding to the numerous accusations from Arendelle and its allies, although there was a rumor that the Duke was on the verge of being overthrown after such a failure. Even Elsa couldn't keep from smiling at that.

As Elsa stood out on her balcony, dressed regally as always, she couldn't help but marvel at how quickly her country had changed. It had gone from a serene paradise to a brutal war-zone in a few days. Now it was somewhere in between. The damage from the battle on the harbor was still evident, but the civilians were back and the water looked as peaceful as ever with the sun bouncing off its blue surface.

Ever since the battle, she'd felt stronger, but not dangerously. If anything, she felt more confident than ever in her abilities, both as queen and a wielder of frozen power. For once, her powers hadn't been a problem. They didn't injure Anna or plunge Arendelle into a premature winer. They saved Arendelle, repelling an invasion that would've destroyed everything. And she maintained control the whole time.

She couldn't take all the credit, knowing that many others had made the ultimate sacrifice for Arendelle, but she couldn't help but feel proud. She felt better than she had in years. Her country was wounded, but not dead. And it would heal. She could see evidence of it everywhere. Today was just another part of it.

"Elsa!" called a familiar voice outside her door.

Elsa smiled but didn't bother answering the door. She knew her sister would open it before she got there anyway.

"Elsa!" Anna called, entering her sister's chambers.

"Out here," Elsa answered.

Anna strode out over to the balcony excitedly. "It's time. Everyone's waiting for you."

"Well," Elsa said, turning towards her sister and smiling, "We better get going then."

Her sister trailed just behind her as she walked, trying to emulate the way she carried herself.

 _She's always so composed_ , Anna mused as she watched her big sister. She'd changed a lot in the past year. She was different, but a good different.

Just like at the party, they stood behind a curtain, waiting for Kai to announce them. Except this time was different. There was no party, just a ceremony honoring the recipients of the Order of Arendelle. And as queen, it was Elsa's duty to bestow them upon her nation's finest soldiers.

"How come you aren't getting one? You basically defeated Weaseltown's navy by yourself!" Anna whispered.

Elsa chuckled a bit at her sister's praise. "It wasn't just me. Our whole navy helped."

 _Along with Montressor_ , she thought. In spite of everything, she still didn't trust the Capri nobleman. Maybe it was just leftover paranoia from Hans, but something about the way he was just so damn charming all the time didn't sit right with her. Still, he'd been a huge help during the battle at great personal risk. For that, she relented, he deserved his reward.

"Besides, I don't think I can award them to myself," Elsa snickered.

"You're the queen. You can do anything you want," Anna reminded.

Before Elsa could answer, Kai began the announcements. Elsa moved gracefully, posture perfect and a small smile on her face. Anna soon followed, with less grace but an undeniable amount of enthusiasm. The throne room was immaculate, freshly cleaned by the returned staff. They'd even thrown open the windows, letting refreshing gusts of autumn breeze. High ranking military officers, including General Broulard (who smiled kindly at the queen) and General Mireau (who didn't).

The four recipients stood with perfect discipline before the throne. Their completely stoic faced look respectfully up at her. She knew two of the faces quite well.

"Ladies and gentleman, I stand before you today not as your monarch, but as a fellow citizen of Arendelle," Elsa said simply, the crowd watching attentively, "There's no doubt that our nation has recently gone through some very dark times. We've lost much, but we've survived. We survived thanks to heroes like the four men you see before you and countless others, who all faced these dark times with unwavering courage. Many of them, unfortunately, didn't get to see the glories of victory."

Every soldier in the room momentarily bowed their head, recalling all the comrades who'd never returned home. Elsa felt her throat constricting with emotion and coughed to clear it. She was the queen and she had to be composed.

"We honor their sacrifice and cherish their memories. They saved our lives by sacrificing theirs and it's a debt we can never hope to repay. I don't doubt that they're the finest group of warriors to ever enter Valhalla," Elsa continued, "As for those here today, we have a different honor to bestow upon them."

Four servants stepped beside the queen, each carrying a small wooden case. They opened it to reveal the Order of Arendelle medals, finely crafted golden medallions bearing the crest of the nation. Elsa slowly removed one from its box and bestowed it upon the first soldier, who lowered his head graciously to allow the queen to put it on. She thanked him for his service and he bowed in response.

The next soldier looked incredibly young, even younger than her. He smiled boyishly as the queen gave him his medal and thanked him for his service. The next recipient, she knew well. Before she'd even removed the medal, Montressor had the most satisfied smile she'd ever seen on his face. Elsa was tempted to roll her eyes, but paused when she saw the burns on his hands. No doubt he'd sustained even worse injuries than that below his ceremonial black uniform.

"Thank you for your service, Count," she said simply, "You're a friend to the people of Arendelle."

"I'm honored, your majesty," he answered smoothly, bowing as she placed his medal around his neck, "And please, contact me whenever you're ready to discuss my trade proposals."

 _Odd timing for that_ , Elsa thought. She quickly shook it off and regained her composure.

Elsa didn't have to force a smile for the next soldier. It was genuine. Fredrik Amundsen stood before her, striking as ever in his uniform and smiling brightly. She'd read the report of his actions, how he'd led a charge that changed the course of the battle and threw himself in front of an arrow to protect a comrade. To her, it confirmed that the person she'd spoken with on the balcony was the real Fredrik. He really was a noble soldier. She didn't worry about something being up his sleeve like she did with Montressor or General Mireau.

Although he tried his best to hide it, Fredrik was nervous. Receiving the medal was one thing, but receiving it from the queen was something else. When he'd seen her emerge from behind the curtain, he'd almost forgotten his own name. She looked stunning, just like she had the night of the party.

 _I wonder if she even remembers that_ , Fredrik wondered. He knew it was stupid to indulge in fantasies, especially ones as impossible as those related to the queen. He was still just a soldier. He wasn't a king or a prince…or a count.

Fredrik lowered his head respectfully as Elsa placed the medal around his neck.

"Thank you for your service, Fredrik," Elsa said simply, "I heard about what you did and I want you to know that it was one of the noblest things I'd ever heard."

Fredrik's eyes widened as he tried to make his mouth work. Not only did she remember him, she actually cared enough to read about his actions in battle. It did absolutely nothing to help him quell his fantasies.

"Thank you, your majesty. Although from what I heard about the harbor, maybe you should be receiving one of these," Fredrik joked quietly.

Elsa fought back a smile and retained her composure, even when everything in her told her to just be Elsa and enjoy Fredrik's company. It wasn't an appropriate time anyway.

"You're a true hero, Fredrik. Arendelle is lucky to have you," she said before returning to her place before the crowd.

Fredrik didn't even hear the rest of her speech. He didn't even feel the medal around his neck. All he was aware of was the fact that Elsa, the Queen of Arendelle, thought he was a hero.

* * *

Fredrik sat in _La Iruña_ later that evening, surrounded by his comrades. Music and laughter filled the air as the soldiers celebrated the end of the war. Fredrik drank from his beer lightly, wanting to stay sober. He wanted to remember this. Everything felt different now. He didn't feel like the bastard son of a coal miner. He didn't feel like a war criminal. He didn't feel like the Lion. For the first time in a long time, he felt hopeful, hopeful about the future would hold for him and for his nation. He had a long way to go, sins he still had to atone for. But he could do it. He'd been a hero at Ramberg. Jørgen, General Broulard and even Queen Elsa believed he could keep it up. Maybe he could believe in himself, too.

"I'd like to propose a toast," Jørgen announced, slightly intoxicated and snapping Fredrik out of his thoughts, "To Fredrik! The Hero of Ramberg!"

A chorus of cheers rang out through the bar as Fredrik chuckled, slightly embarrassed but happy all the same. The Hero of Ramberg. He liked that one a lot better. Sitting in the warm confines of _La Iruña_ on a cold night, surrounded by friends and with a beer in his hand, Fredrik remembered his rides up on the hill.

 _You live for moments like these_ , he thought.

FIN

* * *

 **Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, but I've been consumed with another fanfic I'm itching to get started. Still, this deserved an ending. I like this story and wouldn't mind a sequel but I've got a few other ideas I'm eager to get off the ground first. I'd like to thank all my readers for sticking with my first story. If you have any interest, come check out my Hunger Games fanfic that finally gives a seldom-used character some much needed attention.**


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